A Wizard's Displacement
by The Cursed and Torn
Summary: Summary: Harry is sent a good one hundred and sixty seven years in the future after the death of Voldemort, and finds himself out of his comfort zone, more so then usual. Why was it that he always ended up in these damnable situations...
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Harry believes that his life was not at all pleasant. Spiteful relatives ranging on borderline abusive, a psychotic man hell-bent on his death due to unusual circumstances involving him and a 'power he knows not', followed swiftly be a albino ferret and greasy haired bat with a stick inserted in his arse with a hard-on for a corpse, not to mention manipulative grandfatherly figures, and oh, yes, a prone to jealousy and backstabbing redhead. Add all that together, not to mention the year to year death traps and plotted murders, and Harry Potter's life was full of shit. Now his life is not only shit, but also nearly two hundred years out of its comfort zone. Just bloody wonderful that…

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><p>Prologue...<p>

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><p>A young man, barely reaching the end of his teenage years, walked steadily along a dirt road, leaving the safety and security of what had once been home to him, towards what could be considered his own execution.<p>

One could ask why anyone, let alone a young man, would do so. The answer itself is rather complicated, needing to be explained piece by piece, starting with the birth of an unfortunate soul known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, and ending with a young man, the very same walking a steady pace into the Death's waiting arms and embrace.

His name was Harry Potter, and he was a ready and willing to sacrifice his life for the safety and security of others. A noble deed, and for an individual such as Harry, it was not, in his mind, something extravagant, noteworthy, or even something grand or heroic. It was simply the right thing to do.

But as he made his way deeper into the surrounding forest, listening to the far off tones of his enemies, waiting to for his arrival, waiting for the opportunity to finally kill the thorn that had been in their master's side for over a decade, the young martyr began to think on his life, and from there the past several hours.

This included the utter destruction of the ancient castle that had once meant the world to him.

Watching the devastation of what he once called home was not an easy task. Or at least that was what Harry believed should have been the case. He had heard how distraught Mrs. Weasely had been after the attack at her home during her son's wedding to Fleur, more for the loss of security that her home had provided then for the house itself, and figured if anything like that were to happen to Hogwarts, he would probably react the same.

Funny how that wasn't really the case.

Hogwarts had once been home to him, a place he felt that he truly belonged. He felt safe, secure, and dare he actually say it, let alone believe it, loved. At one point, he had nothing but happy memories there, and would have been content to live the rest of his life in that castle.

It was sad somewhat how much that had changed in the past few years.

This castle, once a home, once a place of happy memories, had become nothing more but a dark part of his life that he would rather happily purge from his mind.

Every time he looked back at his years within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all he saw was a manipulative man who he loved, and still did, as a grandfather, stringing him along, a metaphorical leash tied around his neck, guiding every one of his actions, giving him an illusion of choice in his life. He saw a man whose dark eyes spoke of nothing but hate and contempt for him, being a constant reminder of what he lost due to his own stupidity, and what he ultimately couldn't have, what he didn't deserve to have. A blonde haired boy who grew to be a self-serving, egotistic, racist bastard like his father. Teachers, preaching about house unity and fairness, but turning a blind eye to the abuse in the halls outside their classrooms. Friends whose jealousy, inability to think for themselves, and stubborn attitudes lead to months of lost contact, and only returning to him with sorrow and apologies when he in the end was proven to be vindicated.

It was constant, year after year. The abuse, the lies, the betrayal, the secrets...

And he had enough of it.

He had become disenchanted with the world he had thought he once belonged to, his heart hardening at the blight that the people who so quickly turned their noses up at him, who so quickly joined the crowd to mock and jeer at him, now found themselves in.

He would kill Voldemort, yes, but not for the sake of Magical Britain, nor for the sake of his friends or surrogate family. He had suffered too much, both by their hands and by their lack of initiative to help him.

Harry paused in his stride into the Forbidden Forest, his fingers rubbing the surface of the small pebble in his hand, contemplating whether he should invoke its power. To call upon his long dead family. To speak to his parents and tell them how much he loved them, despite not knowing them…

To tell Sirius he was sorry for acting so stupidly and rushing in to save him, despite the fact that the man had done the same for him, costing him his own life…

To tell Moony that he would take care of little Ted, despite the fact that he and Tonks had done the same thing his own parents had done to him close to seventeen years ago…

He turned it over in his hand, staring at it with his penetrating emerald green eyes before flicking it with his thumb, sending it tumbling to the forest floor, lost amongst the dirt and gravel beneath his feet.

'_No'_, he quietly decided. If he was to truly leave this life behind him, then reopening old wounds would do nothing but pull him back into the world he so desperately sought to leave behind.

Would he regret this decision someday? Probably when he would be on his death bed or during the nights when he couldn't sleep and would look into the night sky.

Either way, he wasn't going back on his decision.

He continued walking down the forest path, brushing by trees and various roots uprooted from the ground, taking care not to go anywhere near Argog's former nesting place. He forced himself not to think of the place, or the fact that Hagrid was currently at the mercy of Voldemort and his band of thugs.

He stared blankly into the dark lord's eyes, uncaring as he lifted Dumbledore's wand, the Elder Wand, and sending the curse that ended some many lives, his parents included. He didn't even feel the impact, or his body colliding harshly on the ground. His eyes starred unmoving into the night sky, and remembered something his aunt had told Dudley one night when they were still children.

'_If you make a wish upon a star, all your wildest dreams will come true!'_ It had been at the time a means to appeal to Dudley's greed as the boy had wanted some new toy that he had seen while out with his mother shopping, but had refused to purchase due to having a limited amount of money on her at the time. Ultimately he had gotten the toy, no doubt what the baby whale had wished for after hearing his mother's words.

'If only life were that simple…'

But slowly, whatever was left of that child that had been listening in jealously within the confines of the cupboard under the stairs that night decided to push itself out of the confines of Harry's mind. After all, he was already dead, so what could it hurt?

'_I wish upon a star…'_

Unbeknownst to him, Narcissa Malfoy was slowly approaching him, under orders from Voldemort, to check and insure that he was dead. Unknown to Voldemort, whom sat on his throne, a metallic chair with two pillars stretching towards the sky, encasing a sphere of black energy, his wand gave a subtly twitch, a reaction to its 'true' master's call.

'…_to finally…'_

She rested her ear on his chest, blonde hair forming a curtain around his face, eyes widening at the steady beat of what should have been a still heart. Voldemort clenched his fingers into the armrests of his chair, blood red eyes wide with anticipation and restrained psychotic glee. The Elder Wand gave another twitch, this time causing the man to notice, unaware of the dark energy sitting behind him starting to vibrate in tune with the wand, its parallel pillars starting to glow blue, energy sparking between them.

'…_find a place I belong…'_

Narcissa threw herself away from the boy, scrambling to her feet as Voldemort rose to his feet, staring at his wand in confusion and anger at its strange behavior.

"MY LORD! HE'S-!"

Anything else was blocked out by the sound of nothing but destruction as the clearing and surrounding mile radius of the forest was completely wiped off the face of the Earth. Students, teachers, parents, and all other defenders of the castle would remember seeing a giant ball of white light with a dark bluish hue erupt into the air, straight into the sky. Investigations a few minutes later revealed a giant crater where Voldemort and his followers had amassed. It was later discovered that night among the celebrations of the dark wizard's death that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived had not been seen since the dark lord's announcement for his surrender.

Several months later, a team of aurors, under the authority of the new temporary Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, surveyed the destroyed area, trying to find any hint of the Chosen One. Like all searches done before, none were found and after an additional month of searching, Harry James Potter was declared deceased.

A memorial was held for him at Hogwarts, witches and wizards from all over the world coming to attend. His coffin was later put to rest besides the grave of his parents, which had grown to hold the bodies of Nymphadora and Remus Lupin, as well as the empty casket of one Sirius Black. Personal effects ranging from his Firebolt, to his school robes, as well as the photo album of his parents, were left in lieu of a body. His funds in Gringotts were sealed, having left no Will and having no heirs. His relatives had surprisingly shown up for his funeral, Vernon silent and staring blankly, Petunia in tears, and Dudley looking on with something akin to regret.

Slowly but surely, his friends started to move on with their lives.

Ginny had become an International Quidditch star, playing the position of Seeker in tribute to her first love on the Hollyhead Harpies. She never married, nor had any relationships with another man since his burial.

Ron had joined the MLE department at the Ministry of Magic. He and Hermione had tried a relationship, but broke up amicably when they wanted to veer off into different future prospects. They still talk, and remain good friends, and Ron on occasion will tell his children, with tears in his eyes, of the trouble he and Harry would get into, and wishing that his best friend was right beside, trying to divert the line of conversation to something less embarrassing.

Hermione had gone into Magical Creatures department within the Ministry, fighting to update laws for more fair treatment for sentient beings such House-Elves and Centaurs. Later, she eventually took a teaching position at Hogwarts, replacing her former Head of House's position both as Transfiguration instructor and later, as Headmistress of Hogwarts. She routinely visits Harry's memorial at least three times a day, missing her friend more and more as the days pass.

Teddy lived with his grandparents, listening to stories about his mother's youth, about his father and his struggle with his disease as a werewolf and the scrutiny that came with it, and about his godfather, who gave his life to insure that he had a future without the struggles of war. He would later open up several charities for orphans, and become an activist for better treatment for werewolves everywhere.

Years would pass, which become decades, and soon centuries, in which Harry Potter would become a figure in history, a warrior who fought against evil for the sake of the innocent, and other times, an idol for all to aspire to become.

It would be shortly after the death of his last few remaining friends that new discoveries and abilities would be made among the mundane world, from space travel to colonization of other planets. Important discoveries were made, least of all the discovery of the Prothean Ruins, leading to the discovery of mass effect fields, dark energy, and more importantly, the Charon mass relay.

This would later bring about the creation of the System's Alliance, followed closely by the First Contact War between humans and one of the Citadel Council races, the turians.

Later, the Alliance would gain an embassy on the Citadel, as well as get into disputing rights with the batarians, another Citadel race, over rights to various planets within the Skyllian Verge. A short war would be fought, and ending upon the batarian's withdrawal from the Citadel and Council space.

Witches and wizards, no longer ignorant of the world, and by extension, the galaxy, spread out among colony transports, aiding in the colonization of other worlds, creating societies of their own, living their lives in secret still, wary of alien life but no longer seeing muggles as inferiors.

Interestingly enough, a discovery had been made within the crater remains of the final confrontation between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort took place. What they discovered but had dismissed as nothing of importance when diagnostics spells could not determine the energy reading, was a scrap of metal, no bigger than finger.

The energy in question was irregular, fluctuating constantly, but did not match any known signature of magic. The members of the Department of Mysterious eventually dismissed the object and energy readings as not important.

The energy it was radiating in question?

It was dark energy.

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><p>2165, Sol System, Earth, Scotland, 13:42 Hours…<p>

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><p>Opening his eyes slightly, Harry gave a hiss of pain at the bright lights in front of his eyes. Immediately he closed them, head buzzing as he vaguely tried to recall where he was and why his head was pounding a mile a minute.<p>

As soon as coherent thoughts started to formulate within his mind, he immediately snapped his eyes open, ignoring the glaring light above his head before scrambling up, hands reaching for Malfoy's wand stashed in his jeans pocket, ready to throw out the first curse that came to mind before his eyes took in the sight before him.

He was not in a dark forest in the middle of the night. He was not surrounded by a group of men and women dressed in long flowing black robes, masks made into skulls adorning their faces. They were not pointing their wands at him, throwing curses and spells at him to finish what their master could not.

On that same note, Voldemort was nowhere around. His scar did not sear in pain as it usually did at the man's close presence, and neither did he hear or feel the man's howl of anger that he had yet again surivived his attempt to murder him. No flash of green light from any direction, or those favored words of said man's most used spell.

In fact, he was completely alone, within the confines of a single bedroom.

A rather extravagant and large bedroom.

It was large, larger than the Dursley's entire sitting room and kitchen put together, larger then even adding his own bedroom and his cousins own into that count. In the far end of the room was a bed, four poster, queen size he believed, though he couldn't tell. He had slept on a since his admittance into Hogwarts when at the Dursleys, and even his four poster bed wasn't as large. It had golden colored sheets and curtains, and similarly colored head and footboard, though they looked metallic in nature.

Above him was a chandler, though he could see that it was more for decoration then from actually use. Beside the bed were two table counters, again, as metallic looking as the bed's boards. On the left side to the wall were several dressers, and to the right, an enclave of mirrors, no doubt for whoever lived in this room to check their appearance from all sides at any moment. Further down from that was a door of sorts, which he assumed to be a closet, though it had no handles that he could see. Further beyond that was a desk, with what he thought may be a computer, though the only one had seen belonged to his cousin, and it was white, large, and took up a lot of space.

What he was looking at was some orange screen, held up by an open rectangular shape, as well as several similar screens beside and in front of it, held up by similar devices, blue in color.

'_Just were the bloody hell am I?'_

His question received an answer, though not one he expected.

Hearing a door open from behind him, Harry had his wand out, another door, though this one had a gush of steam release itself from the room, emitting the smell of soap and something flowery, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

Stepping into his line of sight from within the mist of team was a girl. More specifically a young woman, who by appearance couldn't look that much older than him, if not closer to Fleur's own age. And that's when he noticed that she had a white fluffy towel held tightly across her body, and realized that the room she just came out of was probably a bathroom.

And she had just finished taking a shower.

The girl, still dripping wet, stopped in her tracks, staring at her new guest within her room, her expression blank as she simply stared at Harry, making no move or reaction what so ever.

It…unnerved him slightly.

For what seemed like hours, they simply stared unblinkingly at each other, the girl still holding onto her towel, and Harry still having his temporary wand pointing directly at her, forgetting momentarily why had it so, and realizing how much of an idiot he probably looked like, pointing a wooden stick at almost completely nude girl.

His lips twitched, trying to form a grimace at that lost thought.

'_Bad thoughts to have at a moment like this…'_

It was at that time that he decided to get a better look at the young woman before him, and felt all the blood in his body find residence in his face as he took note of her rather…stunning beauty, minus her near nudity.

Black hair as dark as the night, pale porcelain skin, delicate yet sharp features, ice blue eyes that sent shivers down his spine just looking into them, as well as a still developing, but rather shapely figure…

His thoughts broke off from there, remembering his situation, as well as Mad-Eye's ever constant cry of "Constant Vigilance!" That and not sticking his wand's business end in his back pocket. For some reason or another, that one always stuck with him…

He snapped out of his thoughts, still staring at the girl who was watching him with something akin to confusion, curiosity, and caution.

"Uh…hello?"

Harry wanted to slam his head against the wall for his less than stellar greeting. He always did have trouble speaking to pretty girls after all, so maybe it shouldn't surprise him as much as it did.

The girl in response raised a delicate eyebrow at his greeting. Again, his choice of words embarrassed him and left him wishing that he didn't get tongue tied whenever a pretty girl so much as looked at him.

"Hello indeed. If I may be so bold, I'd like to ask what your name is, and more importantly…"

It was here the girl's eyes narrowed, a scowl crossing her features as her voice, clipped, cold, and though he barely noticed, heavily accented with something close to a British undertone, asked, "How did you get into my room?"

'…_crap.'_

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><p><strong>-/Author Note/-/**

**Hello again, CursedAndTorn, reporting for duty! Second ME and HP crossover, and this one is going to be a bit different, if that wasn't obvious already. Anyone wanna take a guess on what exactly the self proclaimed dark lord of everything vile and rotten, like his undergarments, was sitting on? Anyway, I have a new poll up in case anyone's interested. It's about the new ME3 game coming out, and I needed to ask this, but does anyone think that Joker, (that's right! I like the damn pilot, so what?) could be a squad member, at least temporarily, if he was piloting one of those Cerberus Atlas mechs? I can easily see Shepard having one of those in the cargo bay of the Normandy alongside the Hammerhead and Kodiak. And I can easily see Joker piloting one of those bad boys, shooting up husks, krogan, and what have you. Yes? No? Vote now!**

…

**And leave me a review while you're at it! Criticism helps, as long as it's constructive and simply not complaints.**

**Signing off,**

**TheCursedAndTorn**

**;P**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Mass Effect. They both belong to J.K. Rowling and BioWare respectively. Nor do I make any profit from this. This is just for the sheer entertainment value and to let my imagination run wild.**

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><p>Chapter 1: First Contacts Aren't That Great<p>

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><p>Harry tried to explain himself. He really did. But being a teenage boy with limited experience with the fairer sex, and in addition to the fact that the closest he got to a naked female was Hermione during their journey across Britain, in which he was usually outside with Ron as she changed within the confines of the tent, his mind just wasn't in the mood for any thinking beyond the young woman's body.<p>

Which revealed itself in more ways than one, the most notable getting the young woman's attention as she looked down towards his crotch area and causing Harry to curse his hormones to hell.

Her eyes turned dark, and with a bluish tint covering her frame, she lashed out a fist and Harry felt more then saw an orb of energy rush out from her outstretched hand, strike like a projectile, hitting him right in the chest and sending him flying into the wall, rattling the room slightly from the force of his impact.

He gasped painfully, feeling as if he was being ripped apart from the inside out, and watched as the young woman marched towards him, the bluish tint manifesting in her hand once more, and Harry upon instinct whipped out the wand he had in hand before shouting, "Expelliamus!"

His spell escaped the tip, hitting the girl in the shoulder, flipping her over onto her side, a look of surprise on her face before it morphed into pain as she hit the ground, her towel nearly slipping off and revealing her body to Harry.

Flushed slightly from the amount of skin being revealed, and still feeling like his nerves were on fire, Harry scrambled to his feet and ran towards the door.

Stepping through the doorway as the door slide open for him, Harry caught himself in a long hallway, and immediately ran to the right, not knowing where he was going, but also secure in the knowledge it wouldn't be anywhere near that girl with the strange abilities.

Unfortunately, his worries had only grown worse as a loud voice blared over the hallway and probably house he was currently in as it said aloud in a female monotone voice, "Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert. Unknown entity at Hallway C, East Wing. A security team has been notified."

Cursing his bad luck in every situation par a life threatening one, Harry moved down the hall as fast as he could, leading into another hallway, this time split in two directions. Veering to the right, Harry stopped short as a group of blue armored men and women turned around that corner, all holding what appeared to be guns, but never one he had seen before. Turning back, he made the decision to head to the left, only to realize there was another group of similarly dressed with as equally similar, if not dangerous weapons, heading right for him.

He took a look back at the original way he had come, only to groan at the fact that there was yet another group the same group that was coming at him an either side.

He took his wand out, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to fight them all, or if his magic even worked on guns.

Luckily, or unluckily, he wasn't going to find out, at least now. One of the men from the approaching group aimed his rifle and fired at him. Harry barely had time to register the report of fire before he felt something collide with his side, sending him falling to the ground, his body going into spasms as his muscles contorted causing an intense pain to run through his body.

Glancing up from his position on the ground, the last sight he saw was the approaching boot aimed for his head before he knew no more.

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><p>A Two Hours Later...<p>

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><p>Harry looked down at his feet, and gave one more experimental tug at his restraints, and bit off the cry of pain he wanted to release as he felt volts of electricity break through his body.<p>

Slumping down in his seat once more, Harry took in a shaky breath, before looking at the one-sided window before him. He knew that there was someone on the other side of the glass, watching him, and probably taking a mickey out of him being in his current position, but he honestly couldn't care less. Currently, his thoughts were on escape and escape alone.

Unfortunately for him, the people in the blue armor and white insignia had confiscated his wand, probably having a general idea that it was dangerous while in his hands. Either that or it was proper procedure. Either way, he was still had no wand, and was by extension, defenseless. Wandless magic, as cool as it was, was beyond his level of understanding and ability. He could apparate, but he was under the assumption that the Ministry, and by extension, Voldemort, could track him.

At the thought of his arch nemesis, Harry immediately began to wonder what had exactly happened following his sacrifice. All he could recall was Narcissa Malfoy calling out to Voldemort before something…_happened_, for lack of a better term, and he ended up going unconscious, waking up in that girl's bedroom.

Was the man dead? Was the war over? If so, how did he survive the Killing Curse once again, and how did he end up in that girl's bedroom?

These questions circulated through his head, and he could not find a plausible answer to any of them, which in turn gave him a headache, which served to make irritable, and that more desperate to leave the prison he was in and find a quiet place to think.

A place where he wasn't being watched like some kind of animal.

He gave another tug at his restraints, and again bit back a scream as electricity flowed through his body.

He didn't know how much more of this he could take…

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><p>Zaeed Massani watched from the one way mirror as the young man they had captured struggled once again with his restraints, and watched impassively as he went rigid in pain before going slack.<p>

"I say we just kill the kid and be done with it."

Zaeed gave an irritable growl in response before barking out, "Yea', well nobody was askin' you, so shut it!"

Vido Santiago in response merely gritted his teeth, but kept his silence. As much bullshit as he was able to get away with in regards with Zaeed, which was saying something as the man didn't let people fuck with him often and always retaliated with lethal force, he knew when not to push.

This was one of those times. So he swallowed his pride, loathed as he was to do so, and instead directed his eyes to the side, taking note of the young man's possessions, which wasn't much.

A sack of oddly shaped coins, which was a rarity, even here on Earth, a stick of some sort with a handle that had a lot of finger marks, which showed heavy use, a small golden ball, a cloak that was near transparent and worn out, and a ring with a empty socket that probably held a gem or something of the sort.

Truthfully, the only thing that he saw that had any worth was the coins, and only the gold ones at that. Possibly the small ball, though he didn't see the practicality of it. The stick was less then worthless, and the cloak was probably worth its weight in dirt. Why the kid on this shit on his person he didn't know, nor did he care too.

"The kid holds a lot of weird shit, I'll give you that much. Scans showed he didn't have an omni-tool, nor any cybernetics or implants. Hell, it showed that he even didn't get any of the basic genetic engineering that comes standard nowadays to fight off diseases and sickness. Guy even wears glasses, something I haven't seen since I was a kid. Whoever this kid is, he's way behind the times. Even the clothes he's wearing has been out of style for close to two hundred years give or take. An escaped slave maybe?"

Still not getting a response from his business partner, Vido allowed his irritation to mask his expression for a brief second before he schooled into a face of neutrality.

"Gotta opinion somewhere in that disused brain of yours Zaeed?"

The mercenary merely grunted in response, his dark eyes never leaving the boy's own, as he again attempted to move, and got shocked for his troubles.

"His eyes…"

Vido in response merely raised an eyebrow, but remained quiet.

"I've only seen eyes like that on men and women who've seen the worse war has to offer. Who've seen friends and family die, who know what it feels to take a life. Who's watched the life leave the eyes of comrades and enemies alike. Whoever this kid is, he's no civilian, I can tell ya that much."

Crossing his arms across his arms across his chest, Zaeed made a gesture for Vido to unlock the door before saying, "I'm goin' in. Tell the boss I'll have an answer as to who the boy is and wha' he was doing in his little girl's room, and how the hell he got past my men in an hour, maybe less."

Vido allowed a smirk to grace his face, a wistful look in his eyes as he gave a low whistle. "You've seen the guy's daughter right? I know exactly what he was doing in there, and let me tell you, I wouldn't mind a piece of that action either. The bitch is one hot piece of ass."

Growling lowly in his throat at the man's chauvinistic behavior, Zaeed snapped out, "Keep your fuckin' thoughts to yourself Vido! I don't need to hear that shit or whatever other sick fantasies you've got in that little fuck'd up head of yours! And if I find out you've touched that girl in anyway, I'll blow your fuckin' brains out myself before feeding your rotten' corpse to a varren!"

Stepping into the room and locking the door behind him, Zaeed didn't see the look of rage on Vido's face as he glared at his back.

Opening his omni-tool, Vido growled lowly to himself as he looked up potential recruits for their new mercenary group, looking for individuals who would work for cheap, but at the same time good at what they did. Batarians would do nicely, though he would have to convince Zaeed on that one.

_'Massani…'_

He'd get what was coming to him someday, and someday soon.

He'd make sure of it.

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><p>Harry opened his eyes slightly as the door in front of him opened, a man walking inside of the room before taking up a leaning position on the glass window, arms crossed and leveling him with a nasty glare. Or, at least he thought so. He could rightfully tell, with how scared the man's face was. Vaguely, he noticed his rather large and muscled arms, covered in elaborate tattoos, the rest of frame no doubt similarly built, his armor doing an excellent job at hiding it while at the same time making him look all the more intimidating. Brown hair, with a twinge of grey, and noticing the rather prominent scar running down his right cheek down to his chin, Harry was immediately reminded of Mad-Eye and his similar disfigurement. All the man needed was a glass eye that moved on its own and could see through walls, and a paranoid mindset, and he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the two.<p>

He chuckled quietly to himself at his pain induced delusions, before sobering up slightly when he recalled that Moody had been killed, and that bitch Umbridge had his eye nailed to the wall outside her office.

"You must be off your damn rocker, laughin' when you're strapped down to an electric chair."

Raising an eye at him through his bangs, Harry gave an uneasy grin before he said, "Sorry you just reminded me of somebody I knew. Dead now though, so it hardly matters."

The man blinked before uncrossing his arms and leaned forward slightly.

"I suppose not. Now listen here kid. I'm going to ask a couple of questions, and I wanna honest answer out of ya. First off, how the hell did you get in here and past all my men, without tripping any of the alarms? What are you doing here and what the hell were you doing in the girl's room? And your answer better be good."

Harry closed his eyes, struggling to think clearly amongst the irritating pain that his body was feeling, once in a while giving an involuntary twitch or movement. It was nothing like the Cruciatus, but it still hurt nonetheless.

"I don't know where 'here' is, or how I got here in the first place. I don't know who you are, or where these men of yours were supposed to be. I don't know why I woke up in that girl's room, or why I'm in this place outside of the reason that I woke up her."

Harry really didn't think that answer would appease the man, and he was right as he felt his seize up in pain, this time not fully able to force down the cry of pain that choked itself out of his throat.

Once the pain stopped, Harry wasn't given the courtesy of a reprieve before he was roughly grabbed by his chin and forced to look up at the grim faced expression on the man's face.

"Not a good 'nough answer kid. Last chance to come clean before I shock ya again, and trust me, it isn't goin' to be as fun as the last time."

Feeling himself shaking uncontrollable, Harry whispered out hoarsely, "I don't…I can't…"

Shaking his head in lieu of disappointment, Zaeed tapped the glass twice, and Harry felt a terrible pain beyond anything he ever felt before, even the Cruciatus Curse paled in comparison to this.

He was only barely conscious of the fact that he was screaming before he fell silent once more, his body nearly leaping out of its seat on its own accord, Harry taking deep and quick shallow breaths, fighting the urge to throw up and cry.

The pain…it hurt so much…

Harry again felt his chin tilted upwards, but didn't bother with opening his eyes until he felt a solid strike to his cheek, no doubt bruising it, but forcing him to open his eyes and look into those of his captures.

"Let's start with somethin' easier then. Give me your name for starters."

He opened his mouth, and when no sound came out, he licked his lips and swallowed rather visibly and painfully before he croaked out, "Harry…Potter…"

The man showed no outward response to his name, which slightly calmed Harry's rather chaotic state of mind. He didn't know who he was, so chances were he didn't know who Voldemort was either, and didn't serve him.

Didn't put him out of anymore danger though…

"Where do ya live kid? Got any parents, relatives? Friends maybe?"

Harry shook his head rigorously, answering with a bit of a slur, "Parents dead since I was a baby…got an aunt, uncle and cousin, but they hate me. Friends? I think I had friends once…"

Shaking his head at his answers the man grunted a bit before he left the room, coming right back in and holding his temporary wand.

"You've gotta bunch of unusual shit on ya. For starters, mind tellin' me what this thing is?"

Seeing his wand, and possibly his only chance to escape, Harry called upon his loathsome potion's professor's lessons on Occlumency, and tried to clear his mind and block out t he pain. It worked well enough that Harry could think a bit clearer, but he still felt a tremendous amount of pain still.

He'd only get one shot at this, so he'd have to make it count.

Giving the man a roguish grin, he chirped out, "It's a wand. A magic wand."

The man looked flabbergasted at his answer, before his face contorted into an expression of aggravation and anger.

"A wand? Magic? Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

Shaking his head vehemently, Harry croaked out, "No! I'm not lying. It does real magic. I'll show you, honest!"

Staring at him like he was off his rocker, which was probably true given the fact that he had walked willingly to his own death not a few hours ago, Harry hoped the man would hand him his wand anyway, if only to humor him.

Evidently, he decided otherwise as he tapped the glass again, signaling whomever was outside the room to shock him again.

Bracing himself for the ungodly pain he was about to face, Harry was surprised when he heard a loud blaring sound off in the room, followed by a smooth, female synthetic voice speaking over it saying, "Warning. Warning. This is a Code 27 Subsection B violation. Commencing emergency lockdown procedures."

Raising a hand to his ear, Harry watched the man shout, "VIDO? WHAT THE HELL IS GOIN' ON?"

Harry heard another voice respond through the speakers in the room, shouting back, "IT'S THE BOSSES' FUCKING BRAT! SHE PULLED A GUN OUT ON HIM AND IS MAKING A RUN FOR IT!"

Biting back a curse, the man threw the wand out of his hand before running out of the room, Harry able to glance momentarily outside as another man in blue armor followed after him, pulling something from his back and holding it in his arms before the doors closed again.

Alone in the room, Harry glanced down at his wand, which was near his feet. With his hands and feet bound and any significant movement granting him a pain like no other to run through his body, Harry let out a frustrated groan, realizing that without his hands free, there was nothing he could do.

Glaring angrily at his steel cuffs on his hands, Harry growled, "Open you sodding piece of-!"

To his immense surprise, he felt a shift in the air before his steel cuffs snap open and deactivate, allowing him to shakily stand to his feet. Stumbling slightly, he blindly grabbed his wand before walking to the door, giving a muttered; "Alohomora" to unlock it, never more grateful for his emotional outbursts and the accidental magic that came with it.

Stepping out into what looked like those high-tech control rooms he saw on those sci-fi shows on the telly whenever the Dursleys had left him at the house with Mrs. Figg, Harry noticed the few belongings he had with him, and quickly grabbed them, making sure to throw his father's cloak over him before he stuffed them into his pocket and left the room.

Once outside, which turned out to be another hallway, this one made out of what looked like steel, Harry lifted his wand up before muttering "point me", and a red transparent arrow appearing from the tip, rotating itself to the way out.

Lowering his wand, but not putting it away, Harry walked forward, hoping that he could find the way out of this hellhole. Wherever he ended up next had to be better then here.

* * *

><p>Within an Underground Complex...<p>

* * *

><p>Miranda Lawson clenched her fist, picking the mercenary foolish enough to get in her way before throwing him into the wall, hard enough to leave a noticeable dent, before releasing her hold on him, causing him to slump to the ground, unconscious.<p>

Adjusting her hold on her baby sister, whom had graciously remained quiet throughout the whole ordeal so far, she continued her fast trout down the near endless halls of her father's underground complex, hoping to reach the hanger and grab a transport.

Her initial plan had been to sneak out during the night undetected by her father and his recently hired guards and meet with her friend Niket, whom had managed to secure her transport off the planet and to the Citadel. She was to approach the transport dressed in non descriptive civilian clothing, her recently born baby sister in her arms, fake ID stating her to be an barely of age adult as she looked the to at least eighteen due her genetically engineered makeup, who had just given birth to a young girl, alias Oriana if asked, though no paperwork had been filed at this point beyond a birth certificate. She would go in, and play out a bit of a sob story of an abusive boyfriend, implying but not stating that he had beat her physically. She would garner sympathy, and would say that he had some people out looking for her, and that she needed to leave, and quickly. She would be rushed onto the transport, and traffic officials there would mislead anybody looking for somebody of her description. The shuttle would leave at its scheduled time, and she would be finally free from her father's grip.

Of course, the best laid plans never workout the way you always intended.

Her father had surprised her with a private dinner invitation, as he seldom shared any meals with her unless it was to berate her for her failings or news of a new assignment he wanted her to proceed with. Already she had been debating on the merits of her plan when she had walked out of her shower, having gone through a vigorous workout earlier, and found a boy in her room, dressed in outdated clothing as well as pointing what looked like a crafted wooden stick. Another oddity about him was the fact that he wore glasses, which covered an even rarer sight of emerald green eyes. It didn't occur to her immediately that she was naked par a towel wrapped around her body, as this was unusual circumstances. She had broken from her thoughts and regained her usual cool demeanor once the boy had greeted her with an awkward 'hello'. She had immediately analyzed him like an experiment, finding his accent to be of British descent, his frame thin an wiry, signifying him to be built more for speed then outright combat. Glasses indicated poor vision, something that is easily corrected due to gene therapy that was now mandatory for all humans, which rid them of most disease and genetic defects. It showed that he had never received gene therapy. Clothing indicating a rather poor background, this tied in well with her conclusion of his lack of gene therapy. Family undoubtedly couldn't afford the treatment. Position he was poising was aggressive in nature, though she wondered briefly what he could do with a wooden stick at that distance besides throwing it, which would be a useless gesture. Thief was the conclusion she came down to.

However, her thoughts clouded over slightly as she finally realized her lack of dress when she felt a bit of a breeze, and realized that the boy had been staring rather intently at her, just as she had him, though for obviously, as she glanced at his growing crotch area, for different reasons.

Slightly miffed at his ogling, she threw a biotic blast at him, Warp, though she put more force in it then she originally intended, sending him flying into a wall, shaking her room with the force that he hit it with.

Her face giving away nothing, though she mentally berated herself for being so careless with her abilities, walked up to the young man, hand glowing in biotics, hoping more to intimidate him then actually use it against him.

She was surprised when he had in turned pointed his wooden stick out at her and shouted, "Expelliamus!" before she felt an invisible force collide with her, flipping her over onto her side, dazed and in small amount of pain.

Standing to her feet, she watched as he ran out the door, and making sure the towel was firmly wrapped around her, relayed a message to the mansion's VI, informing her of an intruder before moving to her vanity and pulling out the items needed for her appearance at dinner with her father.

As much as she would like to find the boy and question him about his appearance into her room and what he had done to her before he had run out, she had more pressing issues to deal with. Opening a drawer, she reached underneath her clothing before pulling out a pistol, laying it next to her makeup.

She hoped that tonight, it wouldn't come down to her using it.

Unfortunately for her, it had, and she had to use it more than once.

Dinner between herself and her father had been a quiet enough affair, with only a few topics of conversation, mostly on updates on her progress with her given assignments, or reprimands for whatever mistakes he found that he thought needed to be addressed.

In the next moment, they both had guns leveled at one another and shooting.

The advantage was however on her side. Her father was only aiming to incapacitate her. She was aiming to kill.

Hitting him in the shoulder and abdomen, Miranda barely had time to feel a sense of accomplishment before her father's guards, a recently formed mercenary group called the Blue Suns, ran into the room, guns blazing.

The advantage was again in her favor, as she took them all by surprise, putting a single round in each of their heads before running out of the dining room and to her newly born sister's bedroom.

After she had taken her into her arms, she had barley set a foot outside the room before the alarms went off, commencing a lockdown on the entire mansion.

Apparently her father wasn't as wounded as she had hoped.

For the past twenty minutes, it had been a fight of survival, facing down Blue Sun mercenaries in a dress, high heels, a baby in her arms, wielding only a pistol, her biotics her only other resource.

She was good, designed to be so, but even she had her limits.

Panting, feeling a bit of blood drip down from her forehead down to her cheek, Miranda moved forward, gun raised before her as she checked the corners before she moved on, only to stop short as a pair of mercenaries flew by her line of vision, screaming before they collided with the wall, slumped over and unconscious.

Looking the direction they came from, Miranda was surprised to see the young man from before, his head only visible in addition to his arm, outstretched and holding the same stick she had seen earlier.

He looked startled at her sudden appearance, eyes slightly wide and mouth parted. She supposed it had to do with the state of her attire, in addition to her possibly haggard look and the fact that she was carrying both a baby and a pistol.

Her musing was cut short by the footfalls of fast approaching Blue Suns, and Miranda was at an impasse. She could leave the young man and continue on her way, and hope he could slow the mercenaries after her long enough to find her father's private hanger and escape, shoot him dead at this moment and continue on her way at any rate, or have him follow her as an extra pair of eyes and firepower, though she didn't notice any weapons on his person earlier, nor at the present moment.

At the very least, his rather advanced cloaking technology would helpful.

Making a gesture with her gun held hand, she continued down the hall, and only paused for a second to make sure the young man was following her before continuing her pace once more.

She just hoped she wouldn't regret this decision.

* * *

><p>Harry wasn't entirely sure why he was following the girl he had encountered earlier. He was pretty sure that later on, he would think back and tell himself that she lived here, so she should at the very least have a fair idea on where the exit was.<p>

For the present however, he more or less was lost and desperate, fighting off the spasms his body wanted to give, in addition to the whimpers of pain that wanted out of his throat whenever he moved. And he could swear that his vision was getting a bit hazy, and he still had his glasses on, in addition to feeling very lightheaded.

He didn't think that was a good sign, which just reinforced his desire to leave this place. Where he'd go, he had no idea. Hogwarts didn't seem that great of an option, but at this point, even Malfoy Manor seemed more like paradise then this hellhole.

Glancing at the girl who was currently leading them down an assortment of metallic hallways, all of which looked similar to the others par a lack of doors, Harry grew rather conscious of the fact that while they may have came to a unspoken and mutual truce and alliance of sorts, he still did not know her name, and likewise, did not know his, which as his time in this strange underground complex and mansion continued, found himself less surprised by that fact.

"Um…I didn't catch your name. Mine's Harry. Harry Potter."

The girl only paused for a moment, a perfectly formed frown on her face as she debated the benefits of telling him her name before she resumed her brisk pace before throwing casually over her shoulder, "Miranda."

As an afterthought, she added, "Just Miranda. Nothing else."

Under normal circumstances, Harry would have minded his own business at her flippant tone, in addition to her lack of a last name. Obviously it was something personally, and he wasn't going to pry, especially considering that they had only just met, and under horrid and slightly questionable circumstances.

But these weren't normal circumstances, and Harry was slightly delirious from his earlier torture that such mundane concerns did not immediately come to mind as he asked, "Why, 'just Miranda'? Don't you have a surname? A family?"

Her pace did not change, but Harry could have sworn that the temperature had suddenly gotten that much colder as she answered his inquiry with a blunt, "No."

Muttering to himself, Harry whispered, "Yeah. Me neither."

Miranda gave no inkling that she had heard him, and still kept walking, taking time only to make sure that the baby in her arms was still safe and well before directing her eyes to the front.

Licking his dry lips, and trying to concentrate on the young woman's footfalls and not the roaring headache in addition to the weightless feeling circling through him, Harry stuttered out, "Is it yours?"

It seemed like a fair question, as Harry did hear from time to time during his summer stays at his relatives of a few young girls, most a few years older than himself, others younger, that were knocked up, as the expression went, whom were far along enough in their pregnancy that it was showing. Of course it was followed by the lamentation that if Dudley should find himself in such a similar situation of becoming a young father, in which Harry would cackle silently at the fact that no woman, aside from possibly Petunia herself, would ever think of Dudley as father material, let alone potential as a husband or boyfriend.

He watched as Miranda stopped to turn and face him, this time her expression a mixture of confusion and agitation.

"What is mine?"

Pointing rather lamely at the baby, Miranda directed her gaze between the baby and him, puzzled for all of three seconds before her eyes widened slightly at the implication he was making.

Blushing slightly and looking more than a bit angry, she hissed out, "No! This is my baby sister!"

Raising his hands in a gesture of peace, Harry just nodded his head in acceptance of her answer, only responding with, "Okay! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate anything! I was just curious, that's all!"

Grinding her teeth slightly at the implication he had made, Harry watched as Miranda rubbed at the bridge of her nose tiredly before muttering, "Forget it. It's of no consequence."

Raising her head up and giving him a glare she continued by saying, "Listen, we don't time for questions. As it stands, we need to get out of here, and quickly. We may have lost those Blue Suns at the moment, but that won't last long. You can ask me all the questions you want when we leave and are a safe distance from here, but until then, stay silent and keep your ears and eyes open!"

Nodding his head in agreement, Harry winced slightly as he opened his mouth to ask yet another question, this one more relevant then his previous, and hoping for an answer instead of another reprimand.

"So, where are going and how are we getting out of here?"

Finding his question necessary and acceptable or he supposed anyway, she answered him, her tone softer then it was earlier.

"This is an underground bunker of sorts, and there should be a hanger somewhere where we can find a transport vehicle and escape."

He nodded his head in acceptance at her answer and kept moving behind her, making sure to have his wand at the ready in the event any more of these 'Blue Suns' popped out.

It was some odd fifteen minutes before they came across what Miranda told him to be the door to the hanger, after she had briefly consulted some orange transparent map of what he assumed to be the bunker they were currently in that floated above her arm, which was incased in some sort of similarly colored gauntlet before it disappeared as she lowered her arm.

He could almost hear the equally amazed and slightly reverent tones of the Weasely Twins saying, _"Wicked"_ at the sight.

Stepping through the door, Harry only had enough time to admire the futuristic variety of shuttles, cars, and aircrafts before he heard the sound of various weapons being armed.

That was when he took in the rest of the room, and gulped audibly as he found himself and Miranda surrounded completely by blue armored men and women, their numbers off somewhere in the dozens, all armed with dangerous weapons, and all pointing at them.

Part of him was wishing he hadn't discarded his invisibility cloak after Miranda and he had formed their alliance and was still wearing it.

Miranda herself looked upset, but resolute as she raised her pistol taking aim, ready and willing to go down fighting.

The choice was taken from her as a single shot cracked through the air, strike her the barrel of her gun, sending it tumbling from her hand. She turned to glare at the offending individual, as did Harry, who felt the blood drain from his face as he saw the same man whom had questioned, as well as tortured him.

Evidently, he had recognize him as well, and with an agitated growl, walked towards them, a pair of cuffs in hand as the rest of his mercenary force simply stood their ground, eyes never wavering and hands still steady, finger resting lightly on their respective triggers.

With a flash of brilliance gained from fear and desperation, Harry grabbed onto Miranda's arm, pulling her against him, eyes breaking between the surrounding Blue Suns, and the child still in the girl's arms, which by her tightening grip, showed that she was unwilling to let the child go lest she was a cold corpse on the ground.

Bringing his lips towards her ears, he hissed out, "Think of a place that's far away from here!"

If it wasn't for the men and women slowly approaching them, those wicked but dangerous guns leveled directly at them, Harry was sure she would have leveled him with an incredulous expression.

Noticing the scared man from the interrogation room steadily approaching them, Harry felt a phantom of pain rack through his body before he tightened his hold on her arm before he hissed out, "Now!"

Deciding that she had nothing to lose, she did so, closing her eyes and picturing the spaceport that she would have been boarding if things had gone according to plan, starting both her new free life and making sure her little sister wouldn't have to suffer a similar childhood.

Next thing Miranda knew, she felt as if she was being squeezed by a tight tube of sorts, before she felt the cool night breeze and soft grass as she stumbled unsteadily to the ground, giving an audible gasp at the discomfort she was feeling.

Her sister, thankfully, was still in her arms, and no worse for wear.

Turning her head around, she found her new companion still on his feet, looking as if…whatever had happened, didn't affect them.

That was until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped to the ground, unmoving, but his chest giving deep even breathes, signifying that he was still amongst the living.

Standing to her feet, she took a survey of her surroundings, before to her utter shock, found herself on top a small hill outside the city limits of Dufftown. Surprisingly, she could see the spaceport she had envisioned only moments ago, and stared back at her newest ally, and possible savoir, and could only wonder on what, and more importantly, who this young man really was?

* * *

><p>Harry opened his eyes blearily before shutting them again and let out a pitiful groan at the bright light above his head. He was tempted to turn his head to the side and try to go back to sleep, but a strong grip on his chin forced him to stay his movement.<p>

"Harry? Harry wake up."

Following the accented voice's direction, Harry opened his eyes again, this time in a squint in the event that blasted light was still on and shining in his bloody face.

It wasn't, thankfully, but he instead found an intense gaze of Miranda looking over him with clinical detachment. It was unnerving as he was used to the near frenzy fuss that Mrs. Weasely and Hermione would often make, or the slightly frazzled, annoyed, but mildly concerned way that Madam Pomfrey would check him over with.

With Miranda for some reason, it made him feel as if he was more like a science experiment then an injured party. He glanced down; only to shoot his gaze up as she had unintentionally gave him an unparallel view of her cleavage as she was leaning over him, chest leveled with his own.

She didn't notice his discomfort, or didn't care, and simply continued with her quick examination, and once she was assured that he was suffering from nothing less than exhaustion, she gestured for him to get up, which he did with a bit of struggle, still weak from his earlier exploits.

He noticed her inquisitive expression as he stood on his own power, and sincerely hoped that she wouldn't ask how they got outside in a grassy field when they had been stuck surrounded by armed mercenaries in an underground complex.

Heavens forbid that he would if the positions were reversed.

Apparently, luck was finally on his side for once, as Miranda made no mention of his latest feat of magic before gesturing towards the city before them, which Harry saw was an even grander sight then London, maybe even Hogwarts.

"Dufftown is just ahead. There's a transport station there that I was originally going to escape too, but time restraints as well as your appearance forced me to alternate my plans. If we hurry, we can make it there in maybe an hour, perhaps less, and leave without notice."

Harry in turn, whom was still in awe at the tall buildings, bright lights, neon signs, and generally inspiring looks of the city nodded his head mutely, frowning slightly as the name Dufftown sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place where or when he had heard the name before, and then following after her, taking note that the baby in her arms had yet to cry for the entire evening so far.

For some reason or another, as he glanced as Miranda form, he wasn't that surprised.

* * *

><p>Arriving at the transport station, which Harry nervously noted were filled with hangers that held aerial vehicles, or so he thought, as he never saw an airplane apart from the images in his textbook while in Primary school, which he admitted paled vastly in comparison the craftsmanship before him. It wasn't as if he was afraid of heights, being a Seeker when he had been on the Gryffindor House team, but he had never ridden on a plane before.<p>

Gazing at the sleek ships docked, in addition to the rather large boosters and engines attached to them, Harry got the eerie feeling that they weren't meant for just air travel.

He broke his attention away from the ships as he watched Miranda walk towards him, adjusting her sister, whom she had told him was named Oriana, in her arms. In her hands, was a pair of small pads, no bigger than his palm, silver with a single green light flashing at the tip.

Handing him one, and made her way down a long hallway, which he assumed from what he had managed to dig out of Hermione while he had spoken to her regarding her summer trips, was the loading area for passengers. Following her, though rather awkwardly as he kept glancing out at the night sky and few passengers, most patiently waiting to board their flights, other's clambering off them as they reached home.

He quickened his pace as Miranda stood in front of a gate, gesturing impatiently for him to hurry up. As he took a place at her side, he watched as she handed the attendant at the desk her silver pad, and watched as the woman scanned it with a similar orange glowing gauntlet, much like Miranda's own before returning it to her, the light now glowing red.

Stepping aside for him, Harry took Miranda's place and gave the same device he had to the attendant, in which she did the same process, scanning it before handing it back to him.

Giving them each a bright, if not tired smile, she gave them a jaunty wave as Miranda grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him through the now revealed doorway, not even pausing as Harry nearly tripped over his own feet as the woman said, "Have a good flight now, and congratulations on the addition to the family Mr. and Mrs. Potter!"

He chanced a glance back at the woman, but discovered the door already closed, and instead made his aggravation known towards the only other occupant as he yelled, "Mister and misses what now?"

Sparing him a glance, which if Harry wasn't mistaken, was slightly apologetic, Miranda gave a small shrug before she said, "I didn't want to use my own last name. It would be too easy to trace."

Fumbling still at the fact that she had written them both down as a married couple, with a kid no less, Harry garbled out, "But…I don't even know you." While true, it didn't exactly convey his mixed feelings regarding the situation. He couldn't gather the ruddy courage to ask a girl out on a date, he doubted he could do any better in regards to marriage, fake or not! Dragons he could do, one hundred foot basilisks, okay. Hell, even a corrupt government agent out to get him in addition to a tyrannical dark lord with issues he could deal with, but this…?

…Maybe he was over thinking the situation slightly, but at the same time, he felt like that luck he had earlier had come at a cost and the fates were laughing at misfortune, as usual.

He snapped out of his chaotic thoughts as he felt himself jerk forward, and found himself seated near the window of the shuttle he and Miranda had boarded, never noticing that the young woman in question had lead his still form into the transport and seated him, nor her response of, "Pray that you never do".

He watched through the window in rapid fascination as the shuttle lifted itself into the air, ignoring the captain's voice as he spoke over the intercom, stating that their destination was to something called the Citadel, before the aircraft jerked forward and started flying higher and higher into the air.

They went beyond the clouds, and then further beyond that. Harry, growing more nervous, shut his eyes tight, missing Miranda's slight look of amusement before she focused her attention onto Oriana, whom had started to hiccup slightly at the ships flight, soothing her before she started to cry.

After the ship's intense shaking had stopped, and it had leveled out slightly, Harry opened his eyes slightly before glancing at the window once more, and watched to his nearly frozen in shock heart as slowly the planet he had grown up on became smaller and smaller, until eventually, it was nothing more than a small speck in the dark vastness of space.

Space. He was in outer space.

Shakily moving away from the window, he looked towards the girl sitting across from him, noticing the non-caring way she regarded this, at least to him, amazing feat, and seemed preoccupied with entertaining the baby in her lap.

His lips rather dry, and still feeling pain every time he moved from his torture at the hands of what he come to understand was a man who was in charge of the men and women that made up the Blue Suns, Harry tried to think of something to say before the girl broke her concentrated gaze from the child in her arms and looking directly at him.

"You should sleep. It will help your body adjust to the pain it's going through from the ordeal it had to undergo. I'll wake you up when we get to the Citadel, and we'll decide what to do then."

Harry, realizing for the first time how exhausted he was, from fighting Death Eaters at Hogwarts, to being tortured, and then to fighting again for his life and finding a way to escape the underground complex he had been trapped in, and then apparating not only just himself, but two additional people. He had been running on nothing but pure adrenaline and fumes for close to twenty four hours now, and his body just couldn't take it anymore.

He didn't even respond to the girl before his head lolled to the side, his eyes closed, breathing deep and even. He had fallen asleep.

Miranda, whom had gone back to entertaining her baby sister with rapid hand movements, glanced momentarily at her new companion, dozens of questions running through her mind.

Who was he? What were these unique technologies he was using, but had so carefully hidden? His ability to hid himself from plan sight with that cloak of his was mindboggling, and his near biotic like abilities that he had exhibited earlier against herself was amazing.

Her eyes only moved back to her sibling only when she started to cry at her lack of attention towards her, and made a conscious effort to remove thoughts of the young man sitting across from her for the time being.

She'd get the answers she wanted eventually. She always did.

* * *

><p><strong>-/Author Note/-/**

**Chapter 1 is up and posted, and I have to say, this was probably the easiest chapter I've written yet. Almost 8,000 words and over twenty pages, and it took my only a couple of days! I'm so proud of myself! *Tears of Epic Joy!***

**So Harry meets Miranda (to all those who guessed right, feel proud of yourselves at this moment) as well as Zaeed, and we get a first glimpse of the traitorous thoughts of Vido Santiago. Now I've taken a few liberties with the sequence of events in Mass Effect, as we're never given an actual age for Oriana, or an exact date when Vido betrayed Zaeed. As of now, Miranda is fifteen when she took Oriana (Miranda was born in 2150) and ran away from her father, and it would be sometime in 2165, the current year of this story and five years after the Blue Suns were founded that Zaeed was betrayed, just to clear up a few minor details.**

**Next chapter will be up fairly soon, or so I hope, so drop a review, give me some feedback, and criticism is always welcome!**

**And lastly, I will be closing the poll on whether or not Joker should be a squad mate using the Atlas mech, as a permanent member or temporary, upon my next update of A Magical Effect. Cast your vote now before its too late!**

**CursedAndTorn, out!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Mass Effect. They both belong to J.K. Rowling and BioWare respectively. Nor do I make any profit from this. This is just for the sheer entertainment value and to let my imagination run wild.**

* * *

><p><strong>-/Author Note/-/**

* * *

><p><strong>Everyone seems to be giving me some decent reviews on this story, and I want to thank you all for your support and interest in this story. Anyway, I've closed the poll to the question I posed on my last update, and the answer is…<strong>

**YES!**

**Out of all the votes I have gotten, counting the ones people put down in reviews from other chapters and in my Magical Effect story, 76% voted yes to having Joker at least as a temporary squad mate while piloting the Atlas Mech, while a low 24% said no. Personally, I'd be all for it, and I really don't see it as improbable considering that in ME2 Joker was playable, if only for a short amount of time. If they could do that at BioWare, I really can't see a reason for not allowing Joker to be a squad mate, at least for one mission. Anyway, let's cross our fingers and hope that something like this comes into fruitarian in ME3. If they can add multiplayer, then they certainly do this, right? Anyway, I'll stop this run-on with a thank you to all the voters that participated and for you to enjoy the latest chapter of A Wizard's Displacement.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 2: Almost Two Hundred Years Ahead of Your Time<p>

* * *

><p>Harry didn't know how to react to the giant space station that was slowly coming into view. Words seemed inadequate, his feelings a jumbled mess of awe, shock, and fear. It hadn't accord to him earlier while in Miranda's former home, but things seemed off. The technological advances had been something he had only seen in science fiction, and having just walked to his death, then attacked, captured, and tortured, Harry had little time to truly think beyond the fact that the things around him were both confusing and slightly amazing.<p>

Now however, since he had time to rest, recuperate, and finally think and not act, he found himself more and more terrified of what was happening around him. Questions of where he was, and how such marvels, like this Citadel they were moving towards, existed? It was a fear of the unknown, and Harry would have snorted in laughter when he realized that he was the only one who would have these obstruct fears.

Why couldn't he be afraid of normal things, like clowns or something?

Gazing as the ship passed by the long arms of the Citadel, Harry gulped audibly as another magnificent sight approached them.

Rectangular in shape, it was easily the largest ship Harry had ever seen, or ever probably would, real or otherwise. Four long pikes on all sides, much like a four pronged star, it was positively radiant in appearance with an abundance of lights emitting from its large body. Around it in some sort of formation was a variety of ships, all different in size and appearance, some looking avian in appearance, others like giant misshapen blocks, and others triangular with small spikes jutting from the ends.

"That was the Destiny Ascension, if you're curious."

Blinking slowly as the ship disappeared from view, Harry looked in the direction of Miranda, trying to speak, but appearing at a complete loss for words.

Apparently, she seemed able to read his mind as she continued to speak, answering his unasked question.

"It is the flag ship of the Citadel Council, and probably the largest ship in existence. Originally created by the asari, it was originally their capital ship in their fleet until they formed the Council alongside the salarains and have it become a symbol for the Citadel."

Still slightly unnerved and awed by the sight of such a ship, Harry choked out, "Does…do…are they other ships like that?"

Breaking her gaze slightly from the ships lining the space around the Citadel, Miranda turned her gaze back to Harry before giving him a small smile and shake of her head.

"No, there aren't. It's one of a kind. The resources, craftsmanship, and time needed to construct such a ship would be enormous. Decades and billions of credits would be required, and undoubtedly, such an act would not go unnoticed, and I am positive that the Council would put a stop to it once they've gotten wind of such a project."

Nodding his head slightly in response, Harry turned his gaze back to the window, and pondered the one question that had been bothering him since he had finally been able to think about the past couple of hours since his sacrifice against Voldemort.

Just what in the name of Merlin has he gotten himself into this time?

* * *

><p>Stepping off the transport and into the public terminal, Miranda kept her eyes appraised of the various members of the crowd, trying, and to her slight relief, failing at finding any suspicious individuals. It simply reassured her that her father had yet to discover their current location.<p>

But that could change at any moment.

Grabbing Harry's hand, she pulled him beside her and through the crowd, clutching Oriana securely in her arms while brushing by the various alien races and humans blocking their path. This being not her first time on the Citadel, the novelty of the station had worn off rather quickly, as did the wonder at the many aliens that walked its many streets.

For Harry however, who had never considered life outside of Earth, nor such wondrous marvels surrounding him, such as flying cars and space travel, real space travel to other planets and space stations, as possible beyond films and books, this spectacle nerve wracking and amazing to his mind. If it wasn't for the fact that Miranda was dragging him along beside her, he probably would have stood there and simply gazed at the scientific feats happening around him.

And she couldn't allow that, not when both her life and the life of her sisters was at stake.

Dragging him behind her by the hand, and pointedly ignoring polite behavior in favor of the rush she was in, she pushed and shoved her way through the spaceport, before making their way into the Wards. Pointedly, she gave her companion a look as he seemed about to protest, silently reminding him of the severity of the situation. Reluctantly, he seemed to accept her current leadership and silently followed her, though that didn't stop his eyes from wandering.

Accepting that his fleeting glances would not impede their movement, Miranda activated her omni-tool, creating a link with the Citadel's VI guide, Avina, before requesting information for a hotel before setting up a private and encrypted link with her contact.

After that, all she could do then was wait.

* * *

><p>Leaning his frame on the doorway to his employer's private study, Zaeed made no move to enter, instead watching with a keen eye as the man, a few years shy of fifty he surmised, sat in his luxury chair, leaning back slightly, hands folded together under his chin as he looked unwaveringly at the repeating video log of his two daughter's escape. And truthfully, Zaeed wouldn't have believed what was looping on the screen if hadn't been there and seen it for himself.<p>

One second, the girl was huddled beside the young man whom had somehow managed to escape the interrogation room he had set him up in, and the next, they were simply gone. No flash of light, no smoke, nothing. Just…gone.

He of course had not come to that conclusion lightly however. Bio scans, inferred scans, heat scans…he had his men scour that room from top to bottom, and from there, the entire mansion.

Nothing, not a damn trace of them anywhere.

They had really just disappeared into thin air.

And it pissed him off to no end.

Though not as much as the old man before him.

Even from across the room, Zaeed could feel the murderous rage pulsating in his body, the cold fury burning in his eyes. He wasn't surprised when the man's fist crashed through the vid-screen, disabling the feed and destroying console displaying it.

Turning his gaze towards him, the old man bleed out between gritted teeth and a snarl on his lips, "Have you found them?"

Zaeed, not the least fazed by the man's rage, merely shrugged in response and refused to make an more elaboration then that, because honestly, he didn't have a fuckin' clue. That and it wasn't really his department in the business of illicit information trade. That was more of Vido's game, the poor sod.

Snapping his gaze to the right as another individual entered the room, Zaeed couldn't help but mutter, "Speak of the damn'd devil himself…"

Sparing his partner a glance in greeting, Vido stepped before their mutual employer, ignorant of the man's foul, if not dangerous mood before he slipped him a datapad on his desk.

"I don't know how they did it, but that kid and two daughters of yours managed to escape all the way to Dufftown, about twenty miles northeast from here in the timeframe of about twenty minutes. They hopped onto a transport scheduled for departure to the Citadel. Your men-" it was here that Vido allowed a semblance of arrogance and a slight sneer curl at his features, "overlooked them for the fact that you're oldest, Miranda, used the alias of a married couple under the name Potter, which if I'm not mistaken, is the kid's last name. Presently, they should be onboard the station right now, the transport having docked about three hours ago."

The man's expression, which had been downright murderous, calmed slightly before he whispered lowly, "I will have some of my contacts be on the alert for my daughter. I want the two of you to be on the next available transport to the Citadel where you are to detain her and bring her back to me. My youngest is to be unharmed and treated with the upmost care. Miranda, if she does not come willing or puts up a struggle, you have my permission to put her down. I don't care what happens to the boy, though if he has any useful intel or technology in regards to his rather unique disappearing act, attain them."

His orders were meet by silence before Zaeed righted his position and gave the man before him a glare of contempt.

"I don' bleedin' think so, _sir._"

The man didn't react to Zaeed's statement par an inquisitive eyebrow, though the near murderous look in his eyes spoke volumes of painful reappraisal if Zaeed didn't amend that statement.

Not that Zaeed really cared for his threats. Two wars and the majority of his military career spent in the slums of South Africa either made you or broke you. And Zaeed had seen and done a lot of things that he was willing to wager his life that the man before wouldn't be able to stomach those same experiences, let alone fathom them.

So he stayed strong and merely returned the inquisitive eyebrow with an even heavier, if not more menacing glare.

"Me and my men's job here is to protect you, _sir_. Not to play babysitter for your damn brats. If the bitch wants out, I say let her have at it then. If you want her back so badly, I suggest you either pay us extra for the job, or you find someone else to do it."

Not letting his glare up for even a second, Zaeed merely gave Vido a parting look to reinforce his statement of the Blue Sun's noninvolvement with their current employer's family issues before walking out the room, not sparing the old man who was silently seething with rage at his blunt refusal to aid him in his current predicament.

Glaring angrily at Zaeed's back as he left the room, the man looked towards Vido, and bit out, "Is he going to be a problem Mr. Santiago? I had assumed the man would be more than willing to search out for my lost daughters and that fool boy she managed to enthrall to her shortsighted cause."

Glancing at his retreating friend's form, Vido gave the man a smirk before muttering lowly, "No. He won't be a problem. I'll make sure of it."

Pausing slightly, he added airily, "I have a new associate looking to…invest into my little band of mercenaries. Weapons, men, ships…the whole nine yards I guess you can say. I'll send them out to find your daughters as well as that kid and have them dragged back here as a test run. If it all works out, you get your daughters back, and I get full control of the Suns. Zaeed won't fit anywhere in the equation."

Finger his pistol at his side, Vido made his way out of the office, allowing his smirk to turn into a sinister grin before he left the room, one single thought in his head that sent a pleasant feeling down his spine.

And it involved shooting Zaeed Massani right between the eyes.

* * *

><p>Harry wanted to cry out in frustration, but at the same time, he should have known that this would be the case.<p>

Three hours of searching the extranet, and he had not found one article on the magical world. Granted, he should have expected this, as the world he had once called home did not advertise itself to the mundane world during his time period, so he shouldn't have been surprised that they wouldn't have stopped continuing to do so almost two hundred years in the future, especially with other intelligent life in the galaxy.

The question remained however; where were they, and how can he contact them?

Though now that Harry had time to think, he wasn't sure why he was contacting them. True, his original plan was to return to his own time, and according to Miranda, time travel was still an unrealistic possibility even in the future where space travel and extraterrestrial life was the norm. Feasibly, he realized the magical world was his only way back home, and he held the vague hope that close to one hundred and seventy years in the future that the use for a time turner had been extended beyond twenty-four.

Though a time turner with a two hundred year limit was probably a bit too much to hope for. On the other side of that same coin, he was going to enter a world nearly two centuries ahead of when he had lasted seen it. Stagnant as wizardry society may have been back in the late twentieth century, there had to have been some improvement in the lapse of time. Another problem that he had thought off was money. While he had a bit of gold on him, it was by far not a large or great sum. And what if Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts were no longer in use? That line of thought brought up the question of his vault and its current state. Did the goblins, if they still existed, have control of his money? Or had they stolen it in some ill conceived notion that he owed them for a theft of a sword that didn't even belong to them and had remained in Hogwarts for a thousand years? Or had it been emptied and disrupted among his surviving friends? He didn't know, and couldn't even begin to fathom how to find out.

He briefly considered staying in the current timeline, but dissuaded himself from that idea. While he was indeed looking to make his own path and life, doing it more than a hundred years in the future wasn't what he had in mind. That, and he couldn't really work a job here and make a living, with no background, no references, and most importantly, no formally education. Having been in Primary school at the time of his induction of Hogwarts, Harry had missed out on seven additional years of muggle education, which he was certain probably had changed its criteria in the decades he had been gone, which put him at a worse disadvantage then he had been originally at from the start. He also had no clue how this future technology worked, and only got lucky with the extranet console, having used his cousin's computer a few times before and able to get the basic concept down.

Rubbing his forehead and trying to stave off the headache that all these whirling and chaotic thoughts had caused, Harry glanced at Oriana, noticing her silent but innocent and curious gaze as she looked around the room. Vaguely he remembered Miranda mentioning something about her sister being genetically altered, though he only had a small inclining on what that could have possibly meant, and that she was more aware and smarter than most babies her age.

That was something else he had discovered about his newest…acquaintance he supposed. Friend seemed too strong of a title for the young woman, and for some reason, he didn't think she would appreciate nor share the sentiment. Regardless, he had found out that Miranda, as well as her sister, had been literally grown in a tube.

No mother, and altered mentally and physically to a point were being called a natural born human would have been an insult, and completely diverged from her father's own genes showing his egomaniacal tendencies, or at least Miranda had claimed, she was brought into the world for one thing and one thing only.

Perfection.

For Harry, it certainly explained her womanly looks, appearing to be older then her fifteen years would suggest. Anything else in terms of intelligence or physical prowess was beyond him, as she undoubtedly surpassed him in both as it stood due to his selective education and lack of physical exercises, as Quidditch didn't do much for him but increase his reflex time. Wood's drills, which had dealt with a lot of exercising, both on and off the broom, had been effective in giving him some form of physical ability, and the Tri-Wizard forced something similar as he had to keep himself in some form of shape as he was competing in a tournament that was about both physical and magical capabilities. Fifth year did nothing for him, as he spent most of his time setting up lessons for the D.A., and both his last two years spoke volumes on their own.

Breaking himself from his thoughts, Harry cast his gaze back to the extranet terminal, and tiredly began to search once more for any possible hints of a magical world hidden aboard this giant space station.

Because at this point, he truly had no idea on how to get back home, and it caused more distress in his heart and mind then even the thought of the eventually confrontation with Voldemort ever did.

* * *

><p>Miranda allowed an irritated huff to escape her lips as waited impatiently for her contact to arrive. Her unease at the situation only worsened slightly as she knew that the longer she waited the more of a likely chance that her father would locate her and send his men to detain her, possibly kill her. And the fact that her sister Oriana was alone, with only her new associate, Harry, being her only means of defense, did nothing to sooth her already foul mood.<p>

Her thoughts only reinforced her aggravation and impatience, and made her only that much more eager for her contact to show up so she could return to the hotel and resume her vigilance over her sister. It wasn't due to the fact that she felt that Harry was incapable of protecting Oriana if the need presented itself, but that her father would undoubtedly regard him as unknown, and thus, invalid, and have him killed on the spot. With her, she at least stood a chance of escaping, and thus running away once more with Oriana, as she believed that there was a very high chance that her father would prefer to have her brought in alive, if only to kill her himself, which granted a little leeway for her.

And the longer she had to wait, the more likely it would be that her father would discover her location and such a situation would come to pass.

Rubbing at the bridge of her nose, Miranda tried vainly to calm herself down, though her efforts only seemed to undermine her goal as she only got more agitated with each passing second.

After checking her omni-tool once more for the tenth time, and reminding herself once more that her contact was late, Miranda felt herself stiffen as a man took a seat beside her on the bench. He made no obvious motions towards her, or even to register her existence, and merely placed his suitcase beside him and activated his omni-tool, reading today's news story.

The suitcase, placed down flat on its side and facing towards her, Miranda noticed the latches were released. Casting a cautious glance at the man, she watched as he gave a subtle nod, not taking his eyes off his omni-tool, and Miranda slowly reached out and opened the suitcase after placing it on her lap.

Inside was some sort of device, with a small screen placed in the center of it, and its crude appearance showed that whatever this was, it had yet to be perfected.

Giving a slight hum, the device activated, and out of the small screen appeared a man, no bigger than three inches, staring directly at her. Though surrounded by an orange glow much like a VI, Miranda knew this wasn't a sophisticated program. Staring directly into the glowing blue eyes of this man, Miranda found herself swallowing slightly at the intensity of this stranger's eyes, and realized, at least subconsciously, she was speaking face to face, with a man not even her father had to the privilege of meeting, holographic communication or otherwise.

With his lips upturning slightly, though she couldn't tell if it was a smile or not, the man gave a slight inclination of his head in greeting before he spoke, his voice smooth and controlled, giving nothing away as he said, "Miranda, it's a pleasure to meet you, though it is regrettable that we can't do this in person. For my safety and security you understand. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Illusive Man, and I am very interested in what you have to offer Cerberus."

* * *

><p>Harry currently found himself away from the extranet terminal, having had enough for the moment, but resolving to take a look at it further at a later date. For now, all it served to do was give him a headache as well as circling thoughts of what his future plans were, something he did not want to really think about at the present moment.<p>

Instead, Harry was currently entertaining Oriana, much to his own surprise, and seemed relatively good at it, considering he never had to entertain or take care of any child so much younger then himself.

Harry in response to the abrupt entrance of the four eyed individuals, sent out an instinctive disarming hex, and dove to the side, grabbing Oriana amidst her startled cries at the gunfire now being shoot off in every direction before taking cover in the nearby bathroom. Shutting the door and placing a locking charm on it, for all the good it would do as he watched the green light on its center turned red, and tried to figure out a way to escape his pursuers. Rocking Oriana in his arms as he had seen some mothers do to their young while he had traveled around the park not far from his relatives, and seeing it do little to calm her, Harry started to panic slightly as he noticed the door's red light starting changing between green and red, showing that whatever they were doing there, it was getting them passed his locking charm.

Taking scope of his surroundings, Harry couldn't stop the aggravated groan that left his mouth as he realized that there were no windows, and that his only way out was through a door that was the only thing between him and his newest adversaries.

Making a rash decision, and hoping that it was on that was going to pay off and get him and Oriana to safety, Harry aimed his wand at the door before he shouted out, "Reducto!"

A flash of a dull grey flash of light escaped the tip of the wand, nearly invisible to the eye, and slammed into the door. Immediately it shattered into thousands of pieces, the ensuing force causing the shrapnel from the now destroyed door to propel forward and strike the men behind it, the bits and pieces of metal impeding themselves harmlessly into their armor, while ripping open their unguarded faces.

Harry had only waited for the smoke to settle before making a run for it, holding onto Oriana, as he leaped over the dead and heavily injured men, and out the hotel room door…

Only to find himself face to face with another pair of armored men, again of the same species of the ones inside the room he had just escaped.

Quick Quidditch reflexes allowed Harry to dodge the initial strike from the stock of the assault rifle from the first man, only to give a hiss of pain as he felt the second one kick him in the back of his leg, causing him to stumble over his now unbalanced position, falling on his back, only having enough time or mindset to ensure the fall did not do the baby in his arms anymore damage then necessary.

He watched in a near cationic state as one of the men ripped Oriana from his grasp, making a series of sounds that were unintelligible to him before giving the child a fierce snarl, which only served to upset her all the more, causing her cries to become that much louder. The other had his gun aimed right at him, and seemed to be paying him some margin of attention, though most of it was focused on his partner as he responded with a series of his own sounds, which Harry made the correct assumption was their people's native language.

As slowly and quietly as possible as not to draw attention to himself, Harry reached for his wand, which had fallen from his grasp when he fell, and barely felt the handle of it before he heard a sharp click and felt more than see a heavily armored foot slam onto his hand, breaking at least two of his fingers.

Harry kept his mouth shut as a cry of pain wanted to force its way out of his throat, and watched as the four eyed creature reached down for his wand and picking it up and inspecting it, before giving a bit of short bark of what assumed to be laughter and tossing it to the side. He then placed his foot on Harry's chest, pushing back onto the ground before aiming his rifle right between his eyes and gave Harry a sharp toothed grin.

Distantly, Harry realized he didn't need to know Legilimency to know what was about to happen.

Closing his eyes, Harry grimaced slightly as he waited for death to come and embrace him.

He winced as he heard the report of fire from a gun strike the air, and heard a heavy thud land to his side. Cracking an eye open, Harry found the alien whom had been moments away from ending his life laying motionlessly on the ground, a single hole drilled between all four of its eyes, a flow of blood spilling from the wound and creating a small puddle beneath its head.

He chanced a glance to the side and found to his relief Miranda leveling a pistol at the other sole alien, whom had snarled at her presence and death of his partner, leveling his own choice of weapon at her baby sister, making a series of barks that Harry didn't need to have a full understanding of to know that he had made it perfectly clear that he would shoot Oriana if provoked.

Harry watched as the darkly colored energy that Miranda had used against him during their first meeting flared around her body, her pistol wavering slightly as her eyes narrowed and her teeth gritted against each other. By all appearances, she looked furious, and Harry shivered slightly as she moved her gaze towards him, and felt a chill run down his spine.

Realizing that time was a critical factor here, Harry tried to find where his relinquished wand had been thrown, and wanted to moan aloud in aggravation when he could not see it.

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he noticed the alien with the captive Oriana started to back away, making sure to keep all four of his eyes on Miranda who had yet to lower the pistol she had aimed at him.

And it was at that moment that Harry's hand brushed against the assault rifle that the now dead alien had been aiming at him and before Miranda's timely intervention, had been planning on using to kill him.

Harry never fired a gun before, and aside from the double barrel shotgun that his uncle had tried to use against Hagrid, had never seen one up close.

That didn't mean he didn't know the basics though.

Grabbing the rifle and aiming it the retreating alien's back, Harry pulled the trigger.

Unprepared for the recoil, and not holding it in the proper stance, Harry's burst of automatic fire arched horribly and missed his target, but serving the purpose of getting him to swirl around, his gun aimed right at him, a look of pure rage on his face, or so Harry assumed.

Nothing would come of it however, as with his back turned, the alien mercenary didn't see Miranda silently step up behind him before grabbing the side and base of his head.

With a sharp twist of her wrists, she snapped his neck, reaching around his falling body and snatching Oriana from his dead grasp, cradling her to her chest as she tried to calm her down, her cries having never died down during the whole process.

For his part, Harry merely looked at the now dead mercenary, assault rifle still in hand before he slowly stood back to his feet, dropping the gun from his hand before he started to search for his wand once more.

For the moment, he couldn't really stomach the thought of looking at Miranda. She had trusted him, a complete stranger, to protect her baby sister, and he had failed in that task.

He was afraid, and too ashamed to face her.

* * *

><p>Miranda was not an angry person by nature. Groomed to use her wits and respond to all situations with a cool demeanor, the only time she ever truly felt anger was during her father's scrutiny on her failures, which she had learned to ignore in favor of formulating her eventual escape.<p>

This time however, knowing that her own father had branched out his services to batarian slavers, who were notorious in being the scourge of the galaxy at large, to recover both herself and her sister…

She felt a wrath building in her that caused her biotics to flare up spontaneously, even several hours after her rescue of Harry and her sister.

At the thought of her companion, she turned her gaze towards him, her anger shimmering slightly, watching as he was once again on the extranet terminal, this one in a new hotel room as their last location had been compromised, both of them going under a newly established alias, Lawson, though still married as to explain Oriana, and searching for something he had yet to disclose to her.

Truly, it only bothered her slightly as he undoubtedly knew her darkest secret, though he probably didn't understand the ramifications of such an act, and she didn't know anything about him. The more she thought about it however, the more she realized that she really didn't know anything about him aside from his name, which he had seemed somewhat reluctant to give even then.

As angry as she was, Miranda was able to calm herself slightly as her current ally silently worked away at the terminal, as she slowly took in the various injuries lining his body. Aside from the two broken fingers, which Miranda had treated herself by making a makeshift splint as medi-gel was a luxury they didn't have at the moment; he still gave an involuntary wince of pain whenever he moved in a certain direction, and would spasm once in a while or give an involuntary twitch here or there from the electric torture he had received.

Still staring at him, Miranda's thoughts swirled to her contact and his assessment of her skills. Truthfully, even if she managed to somehow gain access to Cerberus and was able to level enough leeway to get herself and her sister adequate protection, that deal did not include her new ally Harry.

And watching him now, dressed in centuries old clothing, struggling to use an extranet terminal, and with no prior knowledge in regards to an Omni-Tool, gene therapy, or even language transmitters, she felt a spark of worry enter her being.

For the present moment, and for the foreseeable future, she did not see Harry surviving on his own power. Not at all.

And based on his nervous, if not resigned expression, he knew it too.

* * *

><p><strong>-/Author Note/-/**

* * *

><p><strong>End of the chapter, and I'm of actually two minds of this. On one hand, I think I did a decent job, but on the other, there is just something that I'm not too pleased with in regards to this chapter. Anyway, I'll a few other updates set up, in addition to a new story. It's, again the very first, a Mortal Kombat and Mass Effect Crossover. Granted, it's more humor and crack than anything else, but it still has a little bit of plot if you squint. If that interests anybody, check out. Otherwise, leave me a review, and a criticism is welcomed as always, so long as its constructive.<strong>

**See ya…**

**CursedAndTorn**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Mass Effect. They both belong to J.K. Rowling and BioWare respectively. Nor do I make any profit from this. This is just for the sheer entertainment value and to let my imagination run wild.**

* * *

><p><strong>-/Author Note\-\\**

* * *

><p><strong>Merry Christmas to all my readers! A little late (Okay very late), I know, but I had originally wanted to post this chapter on Christmas Eve, but got sidetracked. I had spent five hours writing this out for all my loyal readers (while listening to Trans-Siberian Orchestra), and forgot to post it when I was done. And then my internet service went out, and I only got it reconnect like thirty minutes ago so...consider this my Christmas present to all of you! Or not, either or. Its short I know, but there really isn't much to this chapter in comparison to my others. Also I am going to at some point repost my original chapters with some grammatical corrections. Word isn't that helpful with catching errors aside from misspelled words, and I unfortunately tend to forget to add certain words to a sentence, like he or has, which just butchers whatever it is that I'm trying to write. Also, news on the ME3 demo was suppose to be coming out late November regarding an early release, and there has yet to be any news of sort released. Disappointing, though I hope there'll be news out by the beginning of January.<strong>

**And on a completely separate note, I watched ****The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo**** the other night. A really good movie, it is somewhat graphic, though one of the few films actually very true to the book. I highly recommend both the movie and the book to anybody how has a slight interest in the series.**

…

**Okay so enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 3: Hell's Guard Dog and the New Recruit<p>

* * *

><p>Glancing out at the artificial night sky, Harry returned his gaze to his sleeping companion, back facing towards him as she slept peacefully beside the crib that held her younger sister. It had been a few days after the attack from what Miranda had explained where mercenaries sent after her by her father. More specifically, they were known as batarians, a race known notoriously for their slaving practices. The implications from that alone where frightening enough, which brought up the question, at least in Harry's mind, how far this man was going to go to get Miranda back, and what exactly he had planned in dealing with her betrayal. It was an additional worry adding to his growing list of concerns, much of which he didn't need, the most important being that as far as he could tell, he was stuck here in the future.<p>

Hours of searching had yielded no results, and from what he could see, the magical world even more than one hundred years in the future, had still kept itself hidden. He had considered the fact that perhaps he had not landed in the future, but some sort of alternate dimension, but had ruled that out upon discovering an old newspaper article of his centuries old "death" via the extranet, which briefly mentioned an accident at a boarding school he had attended, small halfhearted grievances from his relatives, and a small tombstone in a public grave site in London.

Reading up that he was considered dead in his previous timeline was slightly disenchanting but he should have expected nothing else. Regardless, he was trapped in this unknown future, and with no money, knowledge on the workings of today's world, or any real prospects or skills, his own future was looking bleaker and bleaker.

That was the reason why sleep was now eluding him. Fear of the future, of his life and the direction it was now free falling towards was invading his line of thought every time he closed his eyes. And without the aid of his now dead friends and mentors, he had no one to confine in or catch him should he stumble and fall on this wayward path.

At that thought, he glanced back towards Miranda, whose rise and fall of her shoulders told that she was still asleep, her mind no doubt plagued just as heavily with the fate of not only herself, but her younger sister as well circulating in her thoughts.

Part of him, a rather desperate part of him, considered asking Miranda if he could go with her. However, whenever this part of his mind rose, an image of Miranda's angered expression as she killed the two batarians looming over him would appear, and the guilt from that day would rear its ugly head. He was certain that even if a small chance had lingered in which Miranda would have agreed to his request, that chance had all but evaporated into thin air as a result from his failure to protect her younger sister.

And where he had been slightly useful beforehand, that was no longer the case. He glared dispassionately at the broken wand that once belonged to his old rival, Draco Malfoy, and what was now utterly worthless.

It had been damaged severally by the batarian's ill care, and he had tried to (discretely) use it away from Miranda's sight. He had felt his magic push into the wand, but ultimately it had done nothing as it gave a soft glow before dying down. He had tried it again, but got no results. Not even the glow. For all intents and purposes, the wand was dead, and what more, useless, now making him officially defenseless.

Certainly there was wandless magic. He had seen both Voldemort and Dumbledore cast various spells without a wand or incantation, but he had no true talent for it, as far as he knew. He never really tried it, and whenever he did, circumstances involved were usually life threatening and trying to make a conscious effort in wielding similar results often failed.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Harry wished he could just as easily get rid of his anxiety.

Looking back up into the skyline, Harry asked aloud, "What am I going to do now…?"

Unable to find an answer to his question from the surrounding darkness, and wishing he had a calming draught so sleep could come easier, Harry settled back onto the couch, drifting into an uneasy slumber.

Unbeknownst to him however, his female compatriot had awoken during his silent musings, and heard his unanswered question.

Biting her lower lip and throwing him a concerned look over her shoulder, Miranda settled deeper into the covers, her mind racing with various possibilities.

As upset as she was about his performance against the batarians, she could not entirely place the fault on his shoulders. Her father had done the unspeakable, sending slavers after his own daughters, particularly from a race that did not care for the restraints that morality placed on the conscious minds of all people in the galaxy. Harry had fought admirably, suffering injuries for his defense of a child and a young woman he didn't even know. It was…a humbling experience, as Miranda didn't entertain thoughts that she would've done something similar if the positions had been reversed. Regardless however, it only proved that he was nothing else but a liability, and that he had no real skill sets. And with no identity (she had tapped into a few of her connections in the Alliance and did a bit of a background check on his name. Aside from a young man with a similar name some one hundred and seventy years back, no other Harry Potter had been born in the area of her home) she knew that Harry was not going to have a very viable future. She had of course not confronted him about his lack of credentials; she wasn't that tactless as the possibility of being a former slave had entered her mind, and she didn't want to possibly bring up bad memories. Still, it showed that he was virtually on his own, buried deep in a hole that wouldn't be able to climb out of on his own.

Still mulling over a few possibilities, Miranda settled into a restless sleep as a plan started to formulate in her brilliant mind. She could only hope that Harry agreed to it…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Location : [ENCRYPTED]<strong>_

* * *

><p>"You wan' to hire wha' now?"<p>

Though his response to his partner's suggestion was spoken in a calm and reasonable matter, Vido new from the frosty tone and narrowed eyes that Zaeed Massani was anything but at the present moment. Still, he pressed forward, though he did take a few steps back, placing his desk between them. You couldn't be too careful after all…

"You heard me Zaeed. This protection racketing and occasional pirate raid isn't exactly rolling in the credits. The payroll that we use to hire out these mercenaries of yours takes a nasty chunk out of our profits, and unless we broaden our horizons a bit, we're stuck at being a small time merc band that isn't going to last past the turn of the coming decade."

It was an exaggeration and a lie, and Vido knew Zaeed could see right past it the moment the words left his lips. As high as the payroll was for the men that Zaeed had handpicked for the Blue Suns, they were damn near worth it. In addition, while their last contact wasn't particularly happy with their refusal to obtain his daughter, and with a confirmed failure from the batarains he had hired on the side from a future business venture he was looking into, he had still awarded them a rather handsome amount of credits for a job well done. While not on a job currently, Vido knew they were getting a variety of job offers from various individuals, military or otherwise. And he knew, despite his efforts in keeping his partner in the dark about those contracts, that Zaeed knew it as well.

"Maybe, maybe not, but where the hell does hirin' goddamn batarians fit into the damn situation?"

"They fit in mostly as a cheap labor force. Dozens of men, already armed, for a fraction of what we pay the men we currently have. The best part about the whole situation is that even if we lose a few during a job, their easily replaceable, unlike the men and women we have under your employ. We get the numbers we need for bigger jobs, keep our people from possibly getting killed by lowering the risks."

Crossing his burly arms across his equally fit chest, Zaeed gave Vido a piercing glare before he carefully spoke, his tone of voice suggesting his sheer disgust with Vido at the moment.

"Will in tha' case, my answer is gonna be no way in ruddin' hell! I ain't keen on hiring up a bunch of damn slavers, cheap labor or not! I've seen those fuckin' bastards at work out on the Verge, wha' they do to the people they manage to catch. I've done a enough shit in my life to kno' some lines shouldn't be crossed, and those damn batarians don't even toe those lines, they run right bloody through them!"

Uncrossing his arms and stepping towards his partner, Zaeed slammed both his fists on the table, denting the metal into the shape of his hands as he glared resolutely into Vido's slightly panicked expression.

"I'd rather be six bloody feet under the ruddin' ground then having any goddamn slaver on my payroll."

Grabbing Vido by the collar of his armor, he jerked him forward, glaring angrily into the cowering man's eyes. "Are we clear here, Santiago?"

Swallowing both his fear and his pride, Vido gave a jerky nod in acceptance before Zaeed threw him backwards, not even glancing back as Vido impacted with the wall heavily before slumping to the ground, the breath knocked out of him from the impact.

Glaring at Massani's back, Vido finally snapped.

Already planning for this inevitability, Vido activated his comm. link on his Omni-Tool, sending out a decrypted message to the men and women whom he was able to payoff for their loyalty.

Massani would pay, and pay dearly…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Location: Milky WaySerpent Nebula, Citadel**_

* * *

><p>The Illusive Man looked up at Miranda, an unreadable expression on his face as she silently awaited his verdict.<p>

She had just proposed an additional request from Cerberus' illustrious leader, in addition to the one requiring the safety and security of her baby sister.

The previous evening, right before she had fallen asleep, she had concocted a plan of sorts for Harry's future. Knowing that requesting him to join Cerberus presently was asking too much, especially considering the fact that he offered nothing in terms of skills or ability, she had discovered an alternate solution, one in which would give Harry not only a skill set, but also viable cause to be recruited into Cerberus ranks in the future. Ideally of course, under her supervision. That was why she had come to the Illusive Man with a proposal for Harry to join up with the Alliance Navy.

Of course, for this to work, Harry would need a variety of schooling to catch up with the current technological aspects of the world, in addition to a new identity and background. The former she could easily do on her own, should the Illusive Man agree to the plan, but it was the later that she needed help with. She had already discussed the plan with him earlier this morning in a small amount of detail before contacting the Illusive Man through a private channel he provided for her convenience.

True, he had probably done so as nothing more as a mere courtesy to her, and she probably wouldn't have thought of using it unless under the direst of circumstances, but Harry made rational thinking and logical actions improbable.

She told him as much, and he only gave a weak shrug before muttering something about it being 'part of his charm.'

Presently, she awaited the Illusive Man's decision, and fervently hoped that the man would agree to her suggestion.

* * *

><p>The Illusive Man, otherwise known a few years ago as Jack Harper, was no fool. Having faced off against the turians in the First Contact War, in addition to the Arca Monolith artifact with Saren and Desolas Arterius saw to that. He easily gazed through the farce that Miranda was waving in front of her, and knew there was more to the boy than simply being an accomplice in her escape. If that were the case, he could simply have the boy killed, thus tying up any loose ends and as calculated and logical as Miranda was, would probably agree with his decision. To suggest a new alias for the young man, in addition to conscripting him into the Alliance, spoke of levels of concern that piped his interest.<p>

What was so special about the boy that Miranda would feel the need to figuratively put her neck out for him? He wasn't a biotic, that much he knew for certain, but by her own admission, he had some sort of gift as he had somehow managed to aid in her escape from her father, by, according to her own report on the incident, transport them out of a sealed underground chamber to a mile or so out of a nearby town that was about twenty or so miles away from her home. Perhaps he was some sort of engineering savant, able to build a teleport device, maybe even a portable if not miniscule mass relay? Outlandish as the idea may be, he was nonetheless curious.

So with no other reason than for his own curiosity, the Illusive Man gave a small nod in acceptance, which caused Miranda's shoulders to slacken slightly in relief and a small, tentative smile to spread across her lips.

All in all, if the boy didn't meet any of his expectations, he could arrange for a little accident to occur and Miranda of course, would be none the wiser.

Signaling for Miranda to take her leave and contact her associate with the good news, the Illusive Man answered a private transmission being sent to him from Eden Prime, its contents pleasing him and causing him to forget about the young boy for the moment. Sending out a reply in regards to his subordinate's message about a the biotic potential found in a young girl called Jacqueline, the Illusive Man took a drag of his cigarette before taking a look at the vid screen before him, playing out the news feed of humanity's acceptance into the Galactic Community as they were finally awarded an embassy after eight years. Eight years late he mentally added, but nonetheless, a step in the right direction; though he was unconfident in the Alliance's ability to truly utilize such responsibility to the true benefit of humanity. Only time would tell…

* * *

><p><strong><em>Location: Unknown<em>**

* * *

><p>Zaeed groaned slightly, struggling slightly to move his weary body and open his eyes.<p>

Though he was in no pain, he felt a heavy weight on his body, his movements slow and sluggish, in addition to a feeling of lightheadedness he only associated with one thing.

_'Drugs. Somebody's been keepin' me out for god kno's how long with goddamn anesthetics.'_

Zaeed had vaguely recalled leaving his partner's office, Vido, after a very tense disagreement over the future employ of the Blue Suns. As racist as it may have sounded, Zaeed didn't want any batarians in his mercenary group. Their reputation of being slavers wasn't something he wanted to be associated with his small band of mercs, in addition to the fact that he didn't much care for it. He honestly preferred turians over the four eyed blokes, and they were quite happy to shoot at him some eight or nine years ago. Regardless, he hadn't made it farther than the elevator before it opened up, revealing a small squad of his own men standing there waiting for him, all armed with stun guns. A blink of an eye later and he was out cold, and now found himself in what looked like a small cargo room of sorts.

Knowing that panicking would not yield any results, Zaeed tried to get his body to purge the drugs still running in his bloodstream, and could feel the effects within minutes even though he still felt very weak. As useful as gene therapy was, it was a bitch when it didn't do what you wanted it too. He tried moving his arms, but discovered they were bound behind his back with metal bracings, though his feet were still free.

"So the great Zaeed Massani finally awakens?"

The guttural tone of voice as well as lower pitched voice immediately indicated to Zaeed that whomever had spoken was either wearing a helmet, or wasn't human.

Glancing up from his position on the floor, Zaeed let out a snarl of rage as he saw a batarian looking at him with all four eyes, a smug expression on his face, _dressed in Blue Suns armor_.

His lips curling into a sneer and baring his teeth at the stink of flith wearing what was once a proud symbol, Massani growled out, "Why the hell are you wearin' my fuckin' men's armor you good for nothin' slaver!"

The batarian snarled back, his sharpened teeth more than enough to scare any other man, but Zaeed remained unfazed. He faced down bloody insurgents and a whole platoon of krogan mercenaries all by his lonesome, and he wasn't about to be intimidated by a wet behind the ears ugly ass wannabe merc who thought he was tough shit because he was wearin' some _stolen_ armor!

"Watch your tongue human, or I might just cut it out!"

Gathering a wad of saliva, he spat it at the batarian's face, grinning as it landed in one of its eyes, causing him to scream out in surprise and pain.

"Try it an' I can guarantee it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Wiping his face, and glaring at with his three remaining undamaged eyes, the batarian got up and stalked towards him, pulling from a sheath strapped to his waist a krogan battle knife.

And not just any battle knife, it was his own bloody knife he had nicked off from the dead warlord back on Tuchanka a few months previously.

Seeing red, Zaeed waiting for the batarian to get close enough before moving his sluggish body in a complete arc, slamming his boots into the alien's shin, the force of the blow causing him to stumble forward, caught completely off guard by Zaeed's attack.

Moving quickly, Zaeed jumped to his feet, the room spinning from the effects of the now diluated drugs, before slamming his weight into the batarian's back.

Watching the alien fall to the floor in a heap, Zaeed quickly went ground level once more, placing both his legs around the batarian's outstretched arm that held his knife, his feet wrapped securely around the batarian's head. Giving him one last biting smile at the batarian, Zaeed gave a sharp twist, snapping the creature's neck.

"That's for trying to kill me with my own knife you four eyed bastard."

"And this is for killing my friend you retched human."

Eyes widening, Zaeed looked up from his position on the floor in time to see a second batarian, again wearing Blue Sun's armor shove his armored boot towards his face.

With a loud crack, Zaeed went down once more, unconscious.

* * *

><p>Struggling to open his eyes once more, though this time due to the very painful throbbing of his skull, Zaeed Massani instead of feeling the cold tiled floor of the cargo room he had awoken earlier in, was being held up by his arms and dragged somewhere.<p>

Opening his eyes blearily, he looked to either side of him and found to his relief, his own men escorting him. About to tell them that he was awake and to release him, his mouth went dry as he noticed right beside them equally heavily armed _batarians_ walking in a line with them.

A smart man, Zaeed knew what his brain was telling him about the situation, but he refused to believe it. His own men…were betraying him?

Glancing at them each once more, and realizing that they knew he was awake as their grips on his arms tightened, and their free hands reached for their pistols, only made the reality he was facing all the more accurate to what his gut instincts were telling him.

They stopped abruptly, and Zaeed gave a hiss as the lights at the very front of the room turned on, shining directly in his face, revealing a desk of some sort placed directly in front of a glass window, showing the mix of colors and lights signifying FTL. Seated at the desk was a figure, unrecognizable but clearly male, who slowly stood to his feet, walking around his desk and heading right towards him.

Struggling in the grip of his own men (soddin' traitors!), Zaeed turned his gaze up to the approaching figure, the light of the room shining brightly in his still adjusting vision, causing the figure to be distorted.

"Hello Massani."

He recognized that smug tone anywhere.

Gritting his teeth and watching as his vision slowly cleared up, revealing the sneering face of his former friend and partner, Zaeed didn't need to ask why his own men attacked him and were now holding him down on his knees.

The rotten bastard was betraying him, and Zaeed didn't deal with betrayal very well. A former army man, the one thing Zaeed took away from his time in the service was that you never betray a comrade. Ever. And he had told Vido as much, an unspoken warning to never double cross him.

Apparently he didn't take his warning seriously.

His mistake.

"Vido…! You sodden' miserable little rat! Is this wha' its come 'own to then? Payin' my own men to, capture me, an' for wha'? A disagreement over a bunch of lousy stinkin' slavers?"

Vido in response merely shook his head, giving out a little chuckle as he did so.

"Trust me Massani, this has nothing to do with our little, 'disagreement' as you so eloquently put it. In fact…"

Closing the distance separating the two, Vido gave a solid punch to Zaeed's cheek, his armored hand splitting his cheek open while also giving him a nasty bruise. He struck any harder, and he could have cracked his cheekbone.

"This has been a long time coming, old friend."

Spitting out a bit of blood from biting his tongue to keep the cry of pain that would have been released from the cheap shot Vido took, Zaeed gave his former partner a glare that even from his superior position, gave Santiago chills up and down his spine.

"That one was free princess…try it again, I dare yea'…"

Not feeling entirely confident in the men holding down Massani, Vido opted out of taking another shot at him, but instead started to pace in front of him, getting his thoughts together. For so long he had dreamed of this moment, where he had Zaeed fucking Massani on his hands and knees, completely at his mercy. Fantasies of torturing the miserable old bastard, of telling him exactly what he thought of him, it was all to tantalizing and

"You know Massani…I've dreamt of this moment more times than you can possibly imagine. Every night for so long, I've thought about killing you in the most painful of ways. Of putting you down like the mad dog you are…"

Pulling out his pistol from his hip, Vido leveled the barrel at Zaeed's head, looking triumphantly into his eyes, hoping to see a trundle of fear like he so often did in the many scenarios that circulated his mind about this very moment. Instead, he saw nothing but rage, a burning, unquenchable fire burning in Zaeed's eyes. For a moment, a small single moment, Vido thought about changing his mind. About letting Massani go and grovel for his life, begging for the old mercenary's forgiveness for his foolish actions.

The grip on his gun slackened, the barrel moving lower from his intended target…

And then Vido regained his former dominance, and rationalized that Massani couldn't come after him if he was dead, and pulled the trigger.

Blood sprayed from the wound, covering the barrel of his pistol and his hand, and Vido looked on with satisfaction as Massani slumped to the ground, unmoving.

Holstering his pistol and making a point to remember to put the thing on display later as a trophy, he gestured for his men to clear the area and move out.

Glancing one last time at his former partner and friend, Vido allowed a cruel smirk to grace his features before turning on his heel and moving forward. At long last, the Blue Suns were under his control. He had finally gotten what he deserved, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

Later on while aboard a transport ship back to Citadel space, Vido would recall that he never checked to make sure Zaeed was dead before dumping his body on some backwater planet, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. He had shot the man pointblank in the head after all, and no one could survive that.

Staring out into the vastness of space, Vido frowned slightly as a nagging doubt ate away at him, causing him to lose his sense of accomplishment and instead replace it with a sense of foreboding.

Then again, it was Zaeed Massani after all…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Location: Local Cluster, Arcturus Station<strong>_

* * *

><p>Stepping off the transport with his bag strap over his shoulder, Harry took a deep calming breath before taking a look at his surroundings.<p>

Arcturus Station was just as magnificent as the images on the extranet showed.

It had been nearly three months since his arrival into the distant future, and during the first initial week, he had no hope for a way back to his own time, nor any prospects for the future. He had been looking undoubtedly at a life spent in the backalleys of the Citadel, doing whatever he could to survive, while fleetingly hoping to hear from a possible witch or wizard a familiar location or term that would be his way back to the magical world.

Even though he had promised to leave that world behind, circumstances had changed such self-proclaimed commitments.

And then Miranda Lawson, her newly established surname and alias, had come to his rescue, of sorts. Understanding his plight to a limited degree, as she still did not know of his magical abilities, nor his leap through time, both things he would undoubtedly take with him to the grave, she had told him of her deal with a pro-human organization known only as Cerberus. Taking his previous encounter with Fluffy, in addition to what he knew of the magical beast, had found the name to be a rather fitting, considering from what Miranda had briefly explained of the organization in being the "watch dog" of humanity. However, he was a bit uncomfortable with the views they had, which was for the betterment and advancement of humanity, at any cost.

It reminded him too much of the Pureblood agenda, which had been the advancement of all those with pureblood lineage, no matter the cost.

Even if it meant genocide.

He shivered slightly as he recalled the muggleborn camps that Voldemort had been creating after Dumbledore's fall and the Minister of Magic's assassination. It reminded him of the work camps from the holocaust, and as twisted as the Dark Lord had undoubtedly been, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he gained a little inspiration from the horrors that took place during those times.

Shaking himself from such dark thoughts, Harry recalled Miranda making arrangements for him with the leader of 'Cerberus', only known with the title the Illusive Man. He had granted the necessary resources to construct a background for Harry, in which he and Miranda both put together two days after the meeting took place. He had been able to keep his name and date of birth, though he had to change the year accordingly to match his age, and from there he, though it was mostly Miranda, had come up with fake parents, medical history, education, and other particular details.

As it stood now, he was Harry James Potter, born to one Harold Orion Potter and Elizabeth Lily Potter née James. He had born on one of the outlaying colonies on the verge of the Terminus Systems. Born from a poor family background and his parent's adverse to modern technology explained his medical history omitting the use of genetic therapy and immunizations, in addition to lack of knowledge with today's modern technology or history. His home had been attacked by slavers early on in his youth, age eleven, and as a result, become a slave. (Miranda had at this point been sending him cautious glances, though he did not understand why). Seven years later he had been freed from captivity by the Alliance, whom he had gotten psychological profile done and determined that after a three month cycle of therapy, was fit for reentry into the world. With no background on him however, formal education, and no living relatives, and indebted into the Alliance, he signed up for the service.

This was why he was currently here, at the very heart of the Alliance Military.

He was about to join.

All the paperwork had been done, courtesy of the Illusive Man, and the three months supposedly spent in therapy had actually been spent with Miranda at an undisclosed space station, where she had spent day and night getting him up to speed with the current happenings of the world and technology.

It had been a pain, also considering the fact that he had essentially have to relearn everything he had forgotten while in primary school, in addition to finishing school which he had never attended. In the end however, he had prevailed, or had impressed enough upon Miranda that she felt confident enough for him to manage well enough on his own.

On a completely separate note, Miranda had joined up with Cerberus, and was now working as one of their agents. Already finished with school, and already having a few PhDs and Master Degrees, she had been immediately put into the field following their three month stint. In addition, Oriana had been given away to a family, one with no ties to either Cerberus or Miranda's father. Admittedly he did not know what Miranda was feeling presently in regards to her sister, (she had seemed more aloof then saddened when she had given her away) though he assumed that she probably believed it was for the best.

Breaking his thoughts away from the dark haired young woman, Harry continued down his path off the ramp and into the hanger of the heart and soul of the Alliance Navy. In front of him and littered about were his fellow recruits, men and women of varying ages and appearance, all dressed in navy blue fatigues, much like him, all with similar, and vastly different reasons for joining the service.

They were all separated into little groups, based off of social quirks or baseline personalities. He witnessed a few of them fiddling with their omni-tools, sharing photos of family and friends, while others were waving their hands in an exaggerate motion, telling stories of a misspent youth. Others had their members speaking quietly amongst themselves, talking about the new embassy that humanity had now gained, while others stood off to the side, speaking about a long service history in their family, and how it was their turn to continue the tradition.

Harry himself stood near the groups, though he didn't join a single one. He had no family or friends to speak of, no stories to share of a misspent youth unless one would like to hear a story about being a slave to batarian slavers (true or not), and he did not have a opinion on humanity's political uprising, nor about familial figures that wore the navy blue uniform he was no sprouting.

Simply put, he didn't fit it, and it was probably the only consistent from his time at Hogwarts that had stuck with him currently that he was fairly comfortable with.

"At ten, hut!"

Reacting quickly to the loud voice booming over them, the various groups of recruits quickly fell apart, forming a single file line, some with a straight posture and others with a laidback or slouched one. Falling in line with the other recruits, Harry glanced at the man who had spoken, straightening his own posture as he marched closer to his position.

Dressed in his Alliance dress blues, with a variety of service medals pinned to his coat chest, the man looked haggard in appearance, his skin having taken a leather-like quality. Wrinkles adorned his face making him seemed older, if not in similar appearance to that of Alastor Moody. If not for his broad and fit body, Harry could have easily mistaken him for a frail old man.

Walking down the line of recruits, and not even glancing at one of them for longer than a second, he stopped at the end of line before turning about-faced, before walking down the line once more, though this time taking the time to address them as a whole.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the ground you walk on is Arcturus Station, the very heart of the System Alliance. This place is more than a space station. It is a symbol of how far humanity has come, and how far we have yet to go. For the next six months, this place is going to be your home as you learn from the best the Alliance has to offer."

Glaring down at all of them, Harry swallowed a lump forming in his throat as the man's eyes settled on his own before he addressed the group once more.

"The Alliance only takes the best into their ranks. You need to not only be strong in body, but in mind as well. Questionable decisions and orders may be made in the heat of battle, decisions and orders you are going to have to abide by whether you like it or not. This isn't the place for the hopelessly optimistic, nor for glory hounds looking to make a name for themselves. We are not a mercenary band, where that lone wolf crap is the norm instead of the exception. I am going to make myself perfectly clear on this point. If any one soldier here believes he is worth more than his fellow recruit, you're dead wrong. I don't give a damn if you have better reflexes, better hand eye coordination, or better mental capabilities then the people standing right next to you. Because outside these walls and in the deep recesses of space, that isn't going to mean shit because just like the people your supposedly better then, all its going to take is one shot to pluck yours lights out. The Alliance acts and functions as a cohesive unit, not a set of individuals doing whatever they damn well please. If that's your mentality, you can get the fuck out of my sight right now. Clear?"

Most of the recruits gave sourly or hesitant nods in response, those of family with service history's, merely gave salutes in acknowledgement with "Yes, Sir!" escaping their lips.

Not at all pleased with the majority of responses, the man barked out loudly, "IS THAT CLEAR?"

With all hands rising, some more quickly than others, all the recruits quickly snapped out, "Sir, yes sir!"

"Good!"

Giving a salute himself and glaring at nothing in particular, the man didn't even glance at them as quite a few recruits who had released their salute after their response hastily snapped a similar stance, hoping to make a good impression.

"Welcome to hell ladies and gentlemen. Dismissed."

Releasing his stance and lowering his arm, Harry watched as the man walked out of the hanger in a single line formation, his fellow recruits hastily grabbing their luggage before heading towards the hanger exit and into the station itself, with only one thought on his mind.

_'Just what the bloody hell have I gotten myself into this time?'_

* * *

><p><strong>Author Note<strong>

**End of the latest chapter, and things are starting to pick up a bit. Next chapter will be up in a few weeks, though I'm hoping for a job by then, and after which I've posted new chapters for my other neglected works, so also stay tuned for that. Other than that, leave a review and give me some feedback. Constructive criticism is welcomed as always, so type me a thought or two. Also, I don't really know military speak aside from a few phrases and whats available on the Mass Effect Wiki site, so if anybody wants to correct me on a few terms or send me corrections, feel free.**

**Until next time, and have a Happy New Years!**

**TheCursedAndTorn, signing off.**

**;P**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Mass Effect. They both belong to J.K. Rowling and BioWare respectively. Nor do I make any profit from this. This is just for the sheer entertainment value and to let my imagination run wild.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 4: Training for the Future<p>

* * *

><p>Harry gave a small inaudible grunt as he landed on his cot, his body sore from the intense workout that he had endured during the first few weeks of physical exercises that he and his fellow recruits had to go through. The only silver lining about the whole affair was that he wasn't the only one suffering from sore muscles and a bruised ego, as many of the recruits, even the ones whom had been preparing themselves for years for the moment to serve, had been unprepared for the brutality of it all.<p>

Aside from that, Harry had been slowly trying to learn the art of wandless magic, not an easy feat, but he was limited in options Malfoy's wand had been snapped during his confrontation with the batarians a little over three months ago, and with no access to a wand shop, or any real clue as to where the magical world could possibly be now in a galaxy that is easily traveled with aliens and technology beyond the scope of what he believed to be possible during his time, he had no other choice but to try and learn this unique ability.

In truth, he had no idea to the workings of wandless magic, and only had the fact that children suffered from bouts of accidental magic, which was at often times, focused magical feats that a child would instinctively use as a means to save themselves from danger, or anything that caused true emotional problems for them.

He could vividly remember the times that he had suffered injuries from his relatives' abuses, bruises with the occasional fractured or broken bone, which would heal up overnight, or the fact that he had grown back his hair after his aunt had badly cut it. Other examples included the time he turned his teacher's hair purple, (or was it blue?), when she had been unnecessarily cruel to him, or when he had transported himself to the roof of the school when Dudley and his friends decided to play Harry Hunting…

He believed that the process was more or less the same, and that a wand merely created a focus point to use his magic at whatever time he wished. Maybe owning a wand wasn't exactly necessary to the use of magic, but it undoubtedly made the ability to wield it that much easier. Or so he thought anyway. Theory was never his forte, as he was more inclined to learn something from actually doing it rather than reading and talking about it. That's how it worked for him at Hogwarts anyway…

Regardless, progress was slow going. Knowing that the more complicated spells probably wouldn't work, Harry had tried for the simpler ones first. So far, he had only managed to get the _Lumos_ charm to work, and even then it just was a small bead of light at the end of his index finger. E.T jokes came to mind, a film he watched once at Ms. Figgs while the Dursleys had been out, though considering the era he now found himself in, found them to be a bit…tasteless. Unsatisfied with his progress, Harry was reluctant to try anything else until he managed to get the _Lumos _spell as equally as powerful as when he used it with a wand. In fact, he was determined to do so, seeing as he now knew he had a talent for wandless magic, and was going to do anything in his power to nurture this ability to full bloom.

A tiring exercise perhaps, especially in addition to his Alliance training, but a worthwhile one.

_'Still'_, Harry would silently muse to himself, _'it's a lot better than the training regime that Wood would put me and the others through, especially during his final year before the Tri-Wizard tournament…'_

These thoughts caused a sense of nostalgia to resonate in the young wizard's heart, and as he did for many a night since his arrival into the future, spent the night thinking about his time at Hogwarts, his friends, and all the good memories that were found there, before falling into the grasps of his more terrible memories in the form of nightmares as he lulled into the waiting arms of sleep.

* * *

><p>Miranda Lawson watched in a disinterested fashion as reports filled her screen about her latest assignment, a standard information retrieval mission. The target was high profile, being a former member of the Salarian STG. It was very well known and established that the STG made routine hacks against the Alliance Navy Intelligence, and that the Alliance only caught a few handful of those attempts. Any attempted on their side was easily thwarted. Going to the Council to this was not something Alliance Parliament was willing to do, as it reflected badly on humanity and their inability to keep up with the Salarians. That, and the Alliance had no knowledge of what the Salarian's may have dug up from their routine hacks, and what they could possible reveal to the public as a whole. The Alliance was already in an undercover attempt to recover nuclear bombs that they had sent off through the relays during the First Contact War with the turians, as if word of what the Alliance did spread to the rest of the Citadel Council, it would greatly embarrass them and reduce their already tremulous standing.<p>

It was one of the primary reasons that Cerberus was tasked with finding this former STG Operative, and using his knowledge to level the playing field. The only issue with the assignment was the fact that she, Miranda herself, had been designated as squad leader of the operation, something that most, if not all of her team were aghast to hear. Still, despite this setback, Miranda was confident that she would succeed with her mission, already calculating the risks involved and numbering the estimated causalities that would come from such an operation. Regardless, this was not what occupied her mind at the moment. No, her thoughts were centered on a young, raven-haired man whom she had not seen in nearly a month, and was reluctant to admit was missing his presence.

After spending nearly three months teaching him, interacting with him, and still holding a great deal of gratitude for his part in helping her escape with Oriana, her baby sister, from their tyrannical father, Miranda could only grimace when she came to the conclusion that somewhere down the line she had become…emotionally invested, in him. It was nothing something that she was exactly proud of, but she blamed that more on her father's influence of forming attachments to others as a weakness. Another part of her, the more rebellious side, cheered at the preserved connection that she and Harry shared, justifying it as a means of getting back at her father, as petty as it sounded.

However, when it came down to it, Miranda Lawson was always ruled by her rational, logic, and facts. Matters of the heart were inconsequential, though she had found herself missing the companionship that Harry and given her the last few months as they had stayed at the colony of Terra Nova, where they had hidden themselves away to, par the Illusive Man's orders, though as far as Harry knew, it was because Miranda's father had tracked her down to the Citadel.

Still, her mind ordered her to do away all contact with Harry, at least for the present moment, and focus on the mission ahead. She understood the need to stay focused, to clear away all distractions.

So why was it so hard to stop thinking about the damnable boy?

Narrowing her eyes at the screen in front of her, Miranda was tempted to open up a private comm. channel and contact Harry, or perhaps leave him a private message before her ship's VI program gave the three minute warning mark before exiting the relay. Her posture going rigid, and clearing away the opened message box she had activated, Miranda began last minute preparations for her latest assignment.

All with the thought of emerald green eyes staring into her own.

* * *

><p>It had been nearly two months since Harry's arrival onto Acturus Station with his fellow recruits, and currently he was in the food court, contemplating the last near two months since his enlistment. Things in regards to his Alliance Training, as well as wandless magic were progressing rather better than he expected. In terms of his socializing with his fellow recruits however…<p>

Harry never really considered the ramifications that the life he had lead would have on his ability to communicate and relate to others. An abusive childhood since he was a year old until the moment he learned he was a wizard, which honestly only stopped the physical aspects of the abuse in fear of retaliation, Harry had never had a friend before in his life. His first real friend was a rather simpleminded and very trusting half-giant that had more or less been ordered by his boss to pick him up, despite how happily he was to do so. His second friend was a snow white owl that acted more like a person then a pet, and his third friend was more or less a jealous and insecure boy with confidence issues, his fourth friend in turn being an overconfident and bossy know-it-all who spent more time with books then actual people and couldn't be faster to side with a teacher on any issue. And that was only the first three months after his eleventh birthday. The next several years had been nothing but death traps after death traps, lies and deceit by people that he had believed he could trust, war, as well as the death of cherished loved ones whom Harry had more than once on occasion gone out of his way to help save, but got nothing in return for his efforts, be it support or love…

As a result, a courageous, if not borderline martyr, anti-social, slightly insecure, and mistrusting young man was left in place of what should have been a confident, happy, and loved persona. Having these troubling experiences helped Harry into the person he was today, but left him unable to relate to his fellow classmates whom lacked these very same experiences.

Most came from average family life that saw the Alliance as either a means to rebel against their parents, or as a means to learn some new skills that would better serve them in life and open doors to them in terms of careers. Few came from families who had members of their house already in the Alliance, and was merely keeping up an aged old tradition. Some would leave the service as soon as their time was up, others would remain for the rest of their lives. Even fewer were from colonies out in the traverse, which lost friends and family to the cruelty of hostile races and slavers, and joined up as a means to an end of finding their killers and exacting a vengeance that blackened and ruled their hearts.

Harry fit into none of those categories, and was as a result ostracized from his fellow recruits. While at times lonely, Harry persevered. He had spent many of his days alone in silent contemplation during his journey to destroy Voldemort, especially during the time in which Ron and Hermione would whisper behind his back about their lack of progress during that time, despite knowing that he knew just as much as they did in regards to the information Dumbledore gave them.

Even several months later, and in a future where both his friends were dead, it still angered Harry more then he cared to admit when he thought about how little faith his two supposed 'best friends' had in them. At the time, he blamed it on the Horcrux that was still imprisoned within Slytherin's locket, but after learning that he himself was a horcrux, and had been one since he was a year old, he stopped making excuses for them and accepted the truth of the matter.

He had blinded himself to their faults. While they had stood generally through everything that had ever been thrown at him, both Ron and Hermione had their doubts and made betrayals, Ron more so then Hermione. His insecurities in making friends had led him to simply paint both his friends in such glowing lights that it took Ron several and very severe acts of selfishness as well as stupidity before Harry forcibly was made to see how petty the youngest Weasely male really was.

Hermione was a similar matter as after all the times he had declared Snape as no good; a vile and truly despicable man, it took the murder of Dumbledore for her to see that. Even with the knowledge that he had loved his mother and had grown bitter and jealous at his father for gaining her heart, and that years spent under Dumbledore's thumb had been a means to make amends to her memory, it still sickened Harry that Snape truly believed that protecting him would truly redeem himself, especially considering it was his own fault why his mother broke their friendship off, and furthermore, why his parents were dead in the first place. And despite all that, Hermione still felt a iota of sympathy for the man. Adding her constant nagging him to do better in school, and when he did, admittedly with the help of Snape's edited works, she threw a fit. It was hypocritical of her, and it served as one of the main jarring points of their frizzled sixth year, at least on his side of the fence.

A part of him missed them, and always would, but only the times during their youth, their first year specifically, when the troubles of Voldemort were more along the lines of an adventure rather life or death, where war was simply a topic discussed in history, and where Harry's biggest concern was whether or not he was going to get his Transfiguration essay done by Friday with the required twelve inches of parchment length.

Regardless, that was the past, (literally) and Harry had a new future to look forward too. An admittedly lonely future, but a future nonetheless.

It also didn't help that Harry had made an enemy with one recruit in particular, named Ayden Wayne, an up and coming recruit whom had family that served with the Alliance since its inception back in 2149, whom beforehand served the American military for countless generations before that.

Arrogant, pigheaded, and living off the former glory of his ancestors, he reminded Harry of a particular blond haired pounce back at Hogwarts, who ended up growing up to be a coward who couldn't fight his own battles and relaying on his parents for safety.

The fact that he had nearly killed two of his friends that last year he was at Hogwarts, and had planned on killing the man whom Harry had considered his grandfather was just the last transgressions that the miserable ferret had done to him, but were by far the worst.

Ayden, reminded him to much of him, and likewise, the boy, just as Draco had, became fixated on him, and used every moment he had to make Harry's life a living hell.

Used to such attempts, but with no magic to back the overgrown child's jeering, and having instructors and military nearby in the event that a fight broke out, Harry more or less ignored him, and didn't respond to the boy's taunts of having no family, wearing glasses (which was going to be rectified once he was given a gene therapy package of his choosing based on what career path he wished to serve in), and the odd lightning bolt scar, which even in the future, doctors told him they would not be able to remove for reasons that baffled them. Amusingly enough, Ayden had adequately called him by the every annoying nickname of 'scar head', which only caused Harry on a number of occasions to nearly call him Malfoy. In perfect honesty, if he bleached his hair blond, got his eyes to turn grayish blue, and got his nose to be slightly more acute, in addition to paler skin, he'd look a lot like Malfoy.

Aside from those little details, Ayden's attempts to ostracize him had for the most part been successful. Not that most of the people who associated themselves with Ayden actually liked the prick, but because he had connections in the Alliance, connections that they one day hoped to use in their favor. He actually felt more pity towards the Malfoy in everything but appearance and name, as he actually believed that they liked him for who he was, and not for what he could offer them. It was going to be one hell of a rude awakening when he realized what they really were all about when their true nature comes out into the open…

He broke from his thoughts, as well as his rather halfhearted attempts to cast the Patronus Charm. At the moment, all he seemed to be doing was creating a thin small mist, no larger than his palm, though the previous night he had actually managed to create a rather transparent shield, similar to what he had first cast during his lessons with Professor Lupin back during his third year with the trapped boggart.

Turning his attention to his front, Harry was pleasantly surprised to find a pair of fellow recruits before him, each carrying a lunch tray. Female, the two of them, they were dressed in the standard Alliance fatigues. One was tall and slender, though a fair bit of muscle showed that she was not to be trifled with, nor easily dismissed as a threat. With short shoulder length black hair held up by a green bandana, she had olive skin and light brown eyes. She wore no visible makeup from what Harry could see, though it did not detract her beauty. She had a mischievous glint in her eyes, as well as a small playful smile on her lips, which immediately put Harry at ease for some reason. The other however, was a bit on the opposite side of the spectrum. Shorter in comparison to her female counterpart, she had dark red hair, short as well, though it ended at the nape of her neck, with similarly green colored eyes as his own. She had pale white skin, and on her right arm was a tattoo of a bird in the middle of a circle, a bit of its skeleton showing. Like her friend, she also had a fair bit of muscles lining her form, showing that she kept herself in top shape, and that she could likely do some damage in a fight. Although she similarly had a small smile on her face, her eyes showing a glint of mischievousness, they also held a hardness to them, one that Harry knew all too well as he stared at similar eyes everyday whenever he looked into a mirror.

Remembering his manners, Harry hastily stood up and introduced himself; though he had a bit of a stutter to his words as he had accidently knocked his tray astray, spilling some of its contents on the table. He flushed slightly as he heard one of the girls giggle, whom turned out to be the black haired one, while the one with red hair smile only grew at his embarrassment.

"Uh…sorry about that. My names Harry, Harry Potter. Is there something that I can do for you?"

While his social skills were a tad lacking, he still remembered the enforced politeness that his aunt had forced him to learn, in addition to etiquette during his youth when he had been allowed to sit at the table whenever Vernon had important clients over. This of course being before Harry started to show bursts of accidental magic, in which case he had been forbidden to accompany them to the table, and instead locked away in his cupboard. It had been the only time that Harry ever got a full meal, and had been more concerned with eating than anything else, though he made sure to answer any questions directed to him at the time with the same politeness, if not more so, then Dudley showed at the time with whatever prearranged responses that Vernon had threatened to beat him over if he failed to recall.

Giggling again at his behavior, the girl took a seat across from him, her friend doing the same beside her before outstretching her hand, shaking Harry's after he had extended his own and introducing herself.

"Nice to meet you Harry. The names Samantha Byrne, though Sam will just be fine. No one else calls me Samantha aside from my mum, and to be perfectly honest, it's a bit of a mouthful."

Nodding his head slightly, Harry retook his seat before directing his eyes to the other woman at his table, noting how she seemed a bit more reluctant to introduce herself, though after an elbow to her ribs a bit of a nudge of her head from Sam, she crossed arms over her chest before giving Harry a bit of a tight smile, if not slightly apologetic.

"Sorry. Really not into the whole meeting new people thing. Names Alex though, Alex Brand. Nice to meet you Harry."

Returning the smile, and shaking her hand as well, Harry said, "Not a problem. It's a pleasure to meet you both, Sam. Alex."

And just like that, Harry after nearly two months, made his first two friends, whom like those others that he had made in his short life, would hold a special place in his heart.

* * *

><p>It was the fourth month mark since Harry began basic training, and nearly two months since he had made his new friends in the form of Alex and Samantha, and then later their mutual friend Nathaniel Crowe, who was a decent bloke, if not a tad bit more serious in his demeanor. It was later revealed to him that his father was the Captain of his own frigate in the Alliance, and that he had high exceptions of his son. He was flourishing now in class, ignoring the taunts of Ayden, and responding back on occasion with dry wit and a veiled insult, something he had been learning from Sam and Alex respectively, though Alex's ranged a little on the vulgar side. He had surprisingly grown close the girls, close enough that he started to share parts of his life, except censored so as not to reveal his magical abilities, and to keep up with his fake background. They did sympathize with him, and he in turn learned a little about their lives.<p>

Sam came from a military family, though it was on her father's side. He had been a career solider before the Alliance's creation, and had been offered the opportunity to join due to his career service. She had only been two years old at the time, and she seldom saw her father. Her mother worked as a liaison between the Alliance and the governments of Earth, a tiring and stressful job that often lead her and Sam to moving around a lot, never staying in city or country for more than a few months. When the First Contact War hit, her father had been sent to the frontlines, where he had died during the liberation effort on Shanxi. Her mother had been devastated by the news, but had soldiered on, much like Sam had. She didn't have any friends while growing up, and due to her father's constant absence, and her mother's demanding job, was often teased due to their lack of interest in her life. Her accent didn't help her, as she sounded very aggressive when she spoke, and her tomboyish attitude and the fact that she kept her hair short instead of long like most girls her age, only reinforced the image that she was a girl trying to be like a boy. The fact that she could actually hit harder than most boys only made the teasing worse. It wasn't until she meet Alex did she find a kindred spirit, and from there, one of her closest and dearest friends. At the age of eighteen, she enlisted into the Alliance, much to her mother's ire, and the rest as they say, is history.

Alex on the other hand, lived a much harder life. Born in the slums of Earth, more specifically New York City, she spent a great deal of her time taking abuse, physically, mentally, and emotionally from her father who couldn't hold onto a job to save his life, and a mother whom had walked out on her and her abusive husband. Where she was, Alex never found out, nor cared to look. She abandoned her to abusive father, and at most times as she recalled, never tried to stop it. In fact, Alex believed that the woman pretended it didn't happen, or simply ignored it, until eventually she couldn't stand it anymore and simply left, uncaring of what would happen to her. Her father didn't notice their mother's absence at first, but when he did, would start to blame her for it. Alex however, strong willed for a child, and even then, a child under constant abuse, laid it right back at him, calling him useless, a drunk, incompetent to hold the simplest of jobs, an ill provider, and a violent bastard. She went as far to say that her mother probably left him for another man who could actually take care of her. Those were her exact words, and she had said them at the age of ten.

The beating she had received had left her in the hospital for months, but it had been well worth it she had thought at the time, and still did when prompted.

Her father had gone to prison for child abuse, and she sent to the foster care system, something that Harry himself had been threatened to be thrown into as a child by his uncle to install a sense of fear into him, especially when he gave detailed horror stories of the horrible things that went on in there. Listening to Alex's description of the place made Harry realize that maybe his uncle's stories, which he had believed as he attended Hogwarts were probably exaggerated, and more than a bit of truth to them.

Alex had been forced into three different homes in the timeframe of five months, and had stayed in the fourth one for about a year before the foster parents, already strapped for cash and unable to deal with the large number of children they already had on hand, had been forced to give her up. It had been her favorite place out of all the homes she had been too, and recalled fondly that one of her best memories were the times that Maria, her foster mother, would make a large stack of blueberry pancakes just for the two of them.

After that, she had been forced into the home of a couple whom on the outside were the perfect match made in heaven, while on the inside were just as devious and vile as her father. She just didn't know how vile they were until she turned twelve and hit puberty, and started to develop.

She had been raped by the husband, and then later by his friends, whom the wife pimped her out too to gain a little extra cash on the side to continue her and her husband's habit of dousing themselves with red sand, a new drug running in the streets that were rumored to give one biotic abilities. Those events under normal circumstances would have traumatized any woman, let alone an adolescent girl, but Alex persevered, and started to train her body into shape. She even managed to get a part-time job working in vehicle repair, in which she spent her money on taking self-defense classes. She spent as little time at 'home' as possible, and whenever she did, locked her room shut, using a self-made security lock that she only knew the pass code too.

For two years, she managed to avoid her foster parent's attempts to take advantage of her body, at times not coming home for days at a time, instead sleeping in at abandoned shops or rundown warehouses, and at others, if she could afford it, at small time motels. It all came to end however one night when she had come home, exhausted from a late night at the shop, and had forgotten to lock down her door. Her foster father had snuck in, and had attempted to rape her once more. This time however, she had two years of muscle development, as well as martial arts training. Having the element of surprise on her side, she managed to brutalize her foster father until her foster mother heard the commotion and called the police. The evidence was damning as she was covered in blood from the wounds she had inflicted, while her foster father was in a near comatose state. It wasn't until Alex revealed her past rapes, in addition to the stashes of red sand that her foster parents had hidden did they give any credence to her cries of innocent. They were tried and sent to prison, for twenty years to life, and Alex, not wanting to go to another foster house and possibly be subjected to the same fate, fought for emancipation. Once she proved that she was working, and could take care of herself, did the judge grant her claim. She had later meet Sam, whom was a bike enthusiast, and needed work done on her own. They became friends, a first for Alex, and when Sam decided to join the Alliance, she dragged Alex along with her, which she only agreed to due to a lack of future prospects, as she never focused on school as a priority, but didn't want to work the rest of her life repairing broken-down vehicles.

Harry empathized with both Alex and Sam, knowing what it was like to have abusive relatives, and being ostracized from a community and group of peers for small unimportant details. He swore to protect them and aid them to the best of his ability, and that he would never betray the trust they placed in him, revealing their darker secrets and pasts.

In a separate piece of news, Harry had discovered after months of searching the extranet, had finally gained some information on the magical world.

Dufftown, the small industrial city that he and Miranda had escaped towards after being surrounded by Blue Sun mercenaries, was actually not very far from where Hogwarts had been situated. It was also where his godfather when he had been on the run had been last sighted before he had arrived that night he attacked the Fat Lady's Portrait. He did some investigating, and found out that around 2133, the castle had been discovered, decrypt and devoid of life, looking for all intents and purposes as if it was about to collapse in on itself. Harry had looked at a few pictures of the castle, and felt a piece of his heart shatter at the terrible and heart wrenching condition the once fabled castle had found itself in. Several of its towers no longer present, having either caved in within the castle itself or having fallen off into the caverns below. The bridge once connecting it to the grounds and Forbidden Forest was no longer present, its remains alluding to what had once been there. Its windows broken or boarded up, its once sturdy walls in disrepair and in ruin, the once beautiful and magnificent castle was dead, the magic feeding it having long ago disappeared, its last protection from the outside world, the Wards itself, after more than twelve centuries, had finally collapsed.

For two years, the British government and its monarchy had argued what to do with the castle. There had been some talk of restoring it, of studying it and converting into a museum of sorts. Others had claimed it belonged to the royal family, and as such, private property. In the end, both arguments were mute points as one Henry Lawson, a rich, intelligent, entrepreneur and scientist had made a bid to buy the land. After two years of constant court battles, it was decided by the British Legislation that with no real historical value, and no links to the royal family, that the government could not legally claim the land one way or another. In 2135, Henry Lawson had destroyed the castle and rebuilt his deluxe mansion upon Hogwart's desecrated remains, improving upon it with each passing year. Upon the discovery of the Prothean Ruins on Mars, it became nothing more than a footnote on the daily holonet news.

On a completely separate note, he noted a space expedition that had taken place in 2070, and had gotten an image of the crew that had lead the launch, in addition to some of its passengers.

One in particular stood out amongst the others.

While to others nothing about this particular person stood out, she had immediately captured Harry's attention. White hair that had at one point been blonde, a face once youthful and clear of blemishes of any sort, now adorned with wrinkles and spots significant to her age, and her eyes, grey in color as they had always been, but now clouded and misty, an obvious sign of blindness. Harry imagined the woman seventy-two years younger, and couldn't help but smile sadly, yet happily at having recognized, while not a close friend as Ron or Hermione, a young woman whom had stood by him and always, even in the most bizarre of ways and ludicrous circumstances, managed to uplift his spirits.

He also found it slightly amusing that at the age of eighty-nine, she still wore a necklace made entirely out of butter beer corks and radish earrings.

Though the woman was undoubtedly dead by this time, it was nice to know that, based off the information he had been able to gleam from the article, that she had lived a full life with a husband and children. It also brought up the slight hope that somewhere out in the galaxy was a planet with potential magic users. Though the expedition has since been declared MIA, and after nearly a century missing, that any hope of finding the original crew and the ship itself was a false one, Harry knew better. With a ship of at least one magical user, and one of Luna Scamander nee-Lovegood caliber, then there was strong possibility that they made it to wherever their destination may have been, alive and well. It also gave him the hope that while perhaps the magical world still existed even now, but undoubtedly stretched far beyond the boundaries of Earth, that he would eventually find them.

His current reasoning still stood, that he may somehow find a way back to his time, but lately, he wasn't so sure of what was driving him now.

If he somehow managed to find a way to travel back to his own time, Harry wasn't entirely sure he'd take the chance. Thoughts of Sam, Alex, Nathaniel, and even Miranda, would come to mind, and for a brief moment, would feel an intense sinking in his chest down to the bottom of his stomach, if not somewhat similar to what he felt when he believed for the briefest of moments, that Hermione had been killed in the Department of Mysteries.

With that in mind, Harry came to a startling conclusion.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to go back.

* * *

><p>Six months.<p>

That's how long it's been since Harry arrived at the doors of Arcturus Station and enlisted into the Alliance. Nine months since his accidental time travel into the future, and the start of his new life in a galaxy he barely understood. Nerve-wracking, Harry had done what he had always done when faced with adversity in any form.

He charged it head-on.

While the first initial months of his training had been less than ideal, he had persevered, made friends, and even graduated top of his class, a feat that during his previous life would have been only possible from the aid of one bushy-haired bookworm.

Gazing at himself in the full-sized mirror before him, Harry took in his appearance, a far cry to what he had once been only a few short months ago. His hair, which had been cut short during his initial recruitment, had grown back to its original length, though it still looked as unkempt as it did before, though with the liberal use of some wandless magic, managed to tame it for the moment. His body, which had always been wiry and on the skinny side, had filled out greatly during his training and the gene therapy he, had received upon his initial enlistment. A Class-A Alliance Assault Upgrade Package, it had greatly improved his reaction time, muscle mass, bones, endurance levels, in addition to his vision impairment. He no longer had a need to wear glasses, though he still kept them as an heirloom of sorts, a reminder of his past.

In terms of his actually training, he had received top marks in a great multitude of his subjects, particularly in Weaponry, Public Speaking (a surprise considering how soft spoken he had been up until his fifth year, and even then it was more yelling and challenging Umbridge), Logistics, Computer and Technology, followed by Engineering. His theoretical scores on written tests were impressive, and his practical tests were even better. His instructors were more than pleased with his progress, and had at times took him aside to speak with him privately on possible future career paths in the Alliance aside from the frontlines.

It was shocking considering that he was never that much of a bright student during his time at Hogwarts, though now older and wiser, and no longer disillusioned with his past, attributed that to his time spent with the Dursley's and their efforts to impede his intelligence, punishing him if he ever scored higher then Dudley, and then later at Hogwarts due to his friendship with Hermione, and her near pathological need to always be on top in schoolwork, in addition to his then believed short life expectance.

With none of them a contributing factor any longer, Harry blossomed, his intelligence shinning through like a beacon of light from the dark recesses of his tormented past.

Smart, physically fit and appealing, (or so Elissa and Morgan have told him on occasion), Harry felt a level of self-confidence that had eluded him for most of his life, par the few times he had been on a broomstick flying.

It was that self-confidence that stared back at him from the mirror before him, dressed in his new Alliance dress blues, and as Harry placed the military cap on his head, the bill of the hat obscuring his emerald green eyes from view, he gave a smirk to his reflection.

A new Harry Potter had just been born, one who still held the morals and righteous courage that he had been known for in his youth, but now with the intelligence and cunning of a man who had no delusions about his self-worth.

And he liked it.

Giving his reflection a salute, and laughing a bit to himself out load due to the pure adrenaline and happiness flowing through him, turned a complete one hundred and eighty degrees before heading out the door of the recreation room towards the atrium, for the first time in his life with an air of true self-confidence around him.

It was something he really didn't think he'd ever get used too.

* * *

><p>Harry stared out into the assembly hall of men and women applauding the group of recruits, now soldiers, for their graduation into the ranks of the Alliance. Each and every one of them had been awarded their designated medal of service, each a Serviceman 3rd Class, and gave their chosen Vocational Codes that they would abide by for the rest of their careers. Harry himself had given the S Class Vocational Code, marking his future military career in Orbital Deployments, Reconnaissance, Infiltration, and Assault Forces. The reasoning behind this had been twofold. The first was that it gave him the ability to travel to other worlds and systems, which helped his original goal in finding remnants of the magical world. The second was because it led him to an environment of warfare that he had sadly grown used too. While ideally he wanted to become an auror, it wasn't for the thrill of capturing dark wizards or fighting off evil and the fame that came with it as it had been for Ron when the subject had been broached, but for the fact that it was a position in which he could do the most good in helping the general populace. It was this same selfless reasoning that caused him to choice this career path, where he could ensure that those who would harm others would never be able to.<p>

Harry glanced to his side, noticing Alex and Sam both smiling brightly, marveling at their new dress blues and new designation, even if it was the lowest one. They were still saluting, much like he was, but much like his own, they were directed at nothing in particular, seeing off into distance. Alex for she had no one to invite to the graduation ceremony, and Sam, because despite inviting her mother, she had refused to attend. Nathan's father, who had handed out the designated medals, had given Nathaniel only a nod of acknowledgement, but by the large smile on his friend's face, it was worth its weight in gold.

For the briefest of moments, Harry thought to himself on whether or not his parents, Sirius, and Remus would be proud of his choice to join the Alliance, before pushing such thoughts away, a bitter note in his heart. While he may have come to terms with Hermione and Ron's faults, he had not even come close with those whom were supposed to look out for and take care of him, not by a long shot. In all honesty, he wasn't ever sure he would be…

Distracting himself from such thoughts, Harry continued to stare out into the crowd, and felt his heart stop at the sight sitting in the very front row. Her grayish blue eyes having never wavered from him since the ceremony had started, Harry noted that her body was encased within a formfitting one shoulder strap dress, black hair held back by several clips, curled and framing her face. Lacking an great detail in makeup, though its use would have been lost due to her natural beauty, she centered her use at her eyes, eyeliner and mascara which created a heavy smoky look to her, her lips adorned in a shade of light lipstick that only brought the slightest bit of attention to them. She was the most beautiful woman in the room, and it formed a lump in his throat knowing that all of her attention was focused on him and him alone. The fact that she had come all the way to Arcturus Station just to witness his graduation meant more to him then he thought possible…

Focusing his attention solely on her, Harry ignored everything else in the room, breaking their locked gazes only when it was time for him and his fellow recruits to step off the stage.

* * *

><p>Miranda Lawson watched the group of recruits with a keen eye, a glass of champagne in her hand, and measuring them for possible recruitment efforts by Cerberus. That was her official capacity of attending the Alliance's latest graduation ceremony. Unofficially, she was here to see Harry.<p>

Having many contacts within the Alliance, she had been able to keep updated tabs on the young man throughout his six month stint in the Alliance's recruitment program. She had expected a great many things from Harry during his training and study, and was not disappointed. One of the top students in his class, getting high marks in the near majority of his courses, she felt more than justified in her last minute deal with the Illusive Man to help the young boy, turned man, who had unknowingly rescued herself and sister from a life of oppression. As a result, she owed him a debt, one that she did not think she would ever be able to repay.

Her thoughts broke as she witnessed Harry walk towards her, his back straight, and a quiet confidence in his stride. It was a far cry to the shy young man she had meet during her escape from her father's mansion.

A smile stretched across his face as he took a position to her right, nearly out of her peripheral vision, as he said, "Miranda. It's good to see you. It's been nearly what, six months since I last heard from you?"

"Five and a half actually." Her eyes took in a few more graduates, assessing them. There were so little potential within the group, though a majority shared xenophobic views. It would be easy for Cerberus recruitment officers to wrap that into a blind devotion to the cause, the survival and advancement of humanity, but it would also be counterproductive. Cerberus wasn't xenophobic, and would work with aliens if the need arose, and if the need was great enough, loath as they would to enact such drastic measures, sacrifice an entire race of sentient beings to ensure the survival of humanity, but men and women with extremist views would often not only see those actions as okay, but entirely justified, would ultimately disregard orders and follow through with their own goals, usurping those of Cerberus, and ultimately labeling the organization as a whole with their actions.

It was sickening, but also reality. Already, the Illusive Man had sent her amongst a group of agents to crack down, if not altogether eliminate other Cerberus cells that had gone rogue. The Illusive Man was losing face with the Alliance Parliament, and they were truly beginning to consider shutting down the entire Black Ops organization down.

They needed to assert control over their rogue agents, and quickly.

"That long huh? Still, it's good to see you again. I didn't think you knew I was graduating, and if you did, that you couldn't come."

"Couldn't, or wouldn't?"

"Couldn't. I may not know you all that well Miranda, but after spending so much time and effort trying to get settled, I believed that if you could, you would at some point come to see me in person to find out if all that effort was wasted or not."

He sounded bitter as he spoke, and Miranda filed that away as another mystery to the enigma that was Harry Potter.

They stayed silent for awhile, Harry lost in a sea of bad memories while Miranda tried to focus on something aside from the young man beside her.

He spoke again, his tone light, grabbing back Miranda's attention.

"I got my first assigned ship, the SSV Hastings. I depart the day after tomorrow in the morning."

Miranda in turn, nodded her head, already party to such information. She had after all made the suggestion to one of her contacts that it would be a prime ship for Harry to serve under. Out in the Attican Traverse and Skyllian Verge, and neck deep in the fight for control for the resources and potential planets for colonization against the Batarians, it would give Harry the necessary combat experience he would need, in addition to putting him in unique battle situations which Cerberus, and by extension herself, could make very good use of. There was some risk however, that Harry could possibly be killed, or just as worse, captured as a prisoner and sold to the highest bitter as a slave. Her eyes and gone frosty at the thought, a cold chill vibrating down her spine, and the slightest and barely noticeable hint of her biotics flaring at the thoughts.

She restrained herself, grateful that Harry didn't catch her brief loss of composure. It still aggravated her that she always lost control of her rational and detached demeanor whenever he was a subject of discussion or concern…

"I see. It's a very respectable cruiser, and a good first assignment. It should give you the experience you need, in addition to future commendations to boost your career."

Harry stopped a wince that wanted to form on his face. He had forgotten on how…clinically Miranda spoke. Even after nine months of knowing her, he still felt like a science experiment whenever she spoke to him or about him.

"I suppose so. I haven't really thought about it outside of the fact that I can finally leave this station and see the galaxy. Maybe even help the people out in the traverse who desperately need it."

It was here that a frown formed across her face. "That is something I fail to understand about you. You seem…driven to always help others, even going as far as laying down your life for them."

Looking him directly in the eye, Miranda continued to speak, finally allowing herself to say what she had wanted to ask those months ago when Harry had nearly died in trying to protect Oriana from those batarians back on the Citadel.

"You hardly knew me, and my first impression was attacking you with my biotics. I called security on you, where you suffered electroshock torture as a result, and had more on one occasion during our brief alliance at my father's mansion, thought of leaving you behind the minute it would allow me to escape with my sister, not caring whatever the cost may have been to you."

Staring into her glass of champagne, Miranda rhetorically asked herself, now no longer focusing her attention on Harry, "And yet you still tried to save my sister and me, when it would have been so easy for you to simply stand aside and let them take her. To let them use her as bait to get to me, letting you walk away scotch free."

Closing her eyes, and wishing to stave off the emotional turmoil that was bleeding out of her heart, ignoring the whispers that said that Harry wasn't truly her friend, that he was an agent of her father, that this was all some elaborate test of his, that she never truly got away, that she would never be free…

Miranda snapped out of her own bleak and desolate world when she felt Harry touch her bare shoulder, gently rousing her from her thoughts before forcing her chin up and meeting his gaze.

"It's called a 'saving people' thing. At least, that was what one of my…old friends used to say whenever we discussed my need to go out of my way to help others. Though personally, I like to think that I do it for those precious to me. My friends, and well, I'd like to think of us as friends. We are friends, aren't we Miranda?"

Miranda froze at that. In truth, she never tried to define her relationship with the man next to her. Seeing him originally as an obstacle, then a temporary ally made long-term, to a party to her escape and liberation of her sister. Mentally, she tried to categorize him as means of protection for her sister, gaining his trust and loyalty as to never at some point relay the information of Oriana's whereabouts to her father, or to be bought out by his never ending funds. From there, after his initial test results in the Alliance, coupled with her own assessments of his skills, as a future agent of Cerberus, and possibly a subordinate under her command. Her heart on the other hand, held a place for him within itself, much like it did for Oriana and Niket, her only true friend from her former life and current one. They seldom spoke, passing the occasional message once every week or so, unless she was on assignment, which would turn to possible months of silence between them. It did not help her situation when her fellow Cerberus agents could not see beyond her extensive genetic modification, or her inability to connect with people, thus her frosty and cold demeanor. Add her beautiful appearance and intelligence, not to mention her age, and she was more or less ostracized on both ends of the spectrum. It did not impede her work or dedication to the cause, but even she could admit that it got lonely from time to time…

Which brought on the old fears that Harry Potter wasn't whom he said he was (which wasn't even much to begin with), and that he was simply another errand boy for her father, just waiting to lure her into a false sense of security before revealing the knife in his hand and driving it through her back and into her heart. She either took a leap of faith, trust that he wasn't an agent working for her father, that he genuinely wanted to protect her and her sister from harm, and that he truly believed that they were friends…or she brushed him off, become the ice-cold calculating young Cerberus agent that most people believed her to be, never getting close to anyone.

Mentally, she knew the latter choice was the best option. It eliminated anybody getting close enough to her that could cause her father to exploit them, and at the same time, saved her the heartache in the event that whomever she ended up trusting betrays her at a later date.

But as intelligent as she was, as genetically altered as she was into being a more sophisticated human being, she was still at heart, a recently turned sixteen year old girl…

"Yes", she murmured softly, "I suppose we are."

The rewarding smile on Harry's face brought up a smile across her own.

And for the rest of night, as Harry stood by her side casually chatting with her about the past few months, and about her baby sister's wellbeing, Miranda didn't feel so lonely anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>-/Author Note\-\\**

* * *

><p><strong>New chapter out, and I apologize for the long wait since my last update. I just got a job, and have been working nearly around the clock, paying for the day to day expenses that are needed for day to day living. I also got Mass Effect 3, which sadly, with the way I had hoped to progress with the story, was too similar to some of major plot points of the game itself. So, I had to rework it a bit, which took me longer then I wanted too. On a separate note, I'm waiting patiently for the Extended Cut DLC. My only issue with the way Commander Shepard's story ended was that it didn't show how the decisions I had himher make throughout the game affected the galaxy at large, and what the result was after making your final choice in ME3. I stated before on a forum or two, that if they had made an ending similar to Dragon Age: Origins, where it showed the end results of your choices, i.e what happens to Orzammar if you made Balian the new King, and allowed him the power of the Anvil, or the fate of the Werewolves if you sided with them and killed off the Dalish Clan, that a lot less people would have complained about how the game ended. Then again, maybe it was left intended as an opened ending for a future Mass Effect project that they would have announced later. They had hinted that Mass Effect 3 was the end of Shepard's story, not of the series itself. With the negative response fans have made however, and they're subsequent attempts to appease them, we may never find out. Anyway, that's just me rambling.**

**Regardless, its end of the chapter and Harry has officially completed his academy training and is now being assigned onto his first ship. His current rank is that of S1 Private/Serviceman 1****st**** Class, the first ship being the SSV Hastings, and he now has a few new friends. I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can, in which Harry embarks on his first assignment, one that will star another ME series favorite. Whom, I'll leave entirely up to you to guess, though I did leave a little hint in the chapter to anyone who can find it AND guess correctly. Also, can anyone guess whom the two other characters I placed in the story are from?**


End file.
